Emma Bee
by WadeH
Summary: Fitzwilliam Darcy meets the most enchanting young lady not far from Pemberley, and takes quite a fancy to her right from their first acquaintance. Her beauty, manners, charm and intelligence captivate him immediately.
1. Pardon

_A/N: Welcome back to my loyal readers and a hearty welcome to new ones!_

 _Caution : This is a high-angst story with descriptions of Sexual Violence and its aftermath._

 _The story also has an unusual timeline._

 _I'm using my dialogue-only style from The Wedding Afternoon. This style leaves a lot of the story to your imagination, so you'll have to suck it up and fill in the blanks. I'm quite enamored with this method for certain types of stories. It's a little more work for you, but it gives you the pleasure of imagining the characters and settings as you like. I'm sure you're up to it._

 _This one came to me a few weeks ago almost complete. This is a novella, and will remain that… I promise, no scope or schedule creep this time. It will be about 40k words, maybe 20 chapters.  
_

 _So, without further ado, let me introduce my Emma Bee. Note that there is no connection to the novel Emma. She just appeared in my mind one-day, name and all. It was too late to rename her._

* * *

 _Note After Completion: This story generated a bit of controversy in the comments regarding the subject matter, and the discussion was very interesting. You'll see an A/N in chapter 16 that discusses it. Read the reviews to see the actual discussion. As always, I read and love every review so feel free to let me know what you think._

 _ _Wade__

* * *

"My pardon, young lady! Careful! Let me help you back up. I hope you are not injured. I apologize for getting in your way when you are in such a hurry on an obviously important task."

"Thank you, sir. I am sorry for running into you."

"No harm done. Are you all right, young lady."

"Yes, sir. I am fine, and it was my fault. I'm tougher than I look, and I doubt a bull would knock you over. Mama says I am a terror just like she was. I don't usually run into gentlemen though, so I apologize."

"No harm done, so no apology is necessary. Is your mama here? Is it safe for you to be out in the lane alone? Will she scold you?"

"No, sir. Mama never scolds."

"I can see why not. Your manners are everything wonderful, and that was a very elegant curtsy."

"Thank you, sir."

"May I have the privilege of knowing your name, young lady?"

"Emma Bee."

"Emma Bee?"

"Yes, sir. Bee… Bzzzzz…. Bzzzzz… Bzzzz…"

"Of course. It is my pleasure to meet you, Miss Bee. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy at your service, ma'am."

"Such a fancy bow, Mr. Donkey."

"May I ask how old you are, Miss Bee?"

"Five years old, sir."

"I can hardly believe it. You seem a very smart child and much older."

"Mama says I very well should be… and that I'm a terror."

"Where is your mama now?"

"She is working of course. She sent me to Mr. Duck at the haberdashery for pink thread. I must be on my way, Mr. Donkey. It was nice to meet you."

"Goodbye Emma. It was very nice meeting you."

* * *

"What an enchanting girl."

"Yes, a delight. I do not believe I have ever seen a five‑year‑old half as clever."

" **HA!** How many five-year-olds are you familiar with Fitzwilliam?"

"Do not tease, Georgiana! You are off to the modiste?"

"Yes. Mrs. Rush is the best in Derbyshire, and I daresay better than my modiste in London. She is quite famous, actually."

"Well, get to it then. I will of course spend my time in Mr. Huston's bookshop. Come get me when the miserable chore is over."

"You are such a whinger, Fitzwilliam. Do not dig yourself in too deep. Mrs. Rush is very fast and I shall return in a few hours at most."

"I shall anxiously await."

* * *

"Mama, I ran into a gentleman on the way to Mr. Duck's shop."

"I hope you did not offend him, little one. Gentlemen can be prickly."

"No, Mama. He was very nice. He was with his sister."

"Well, that usually helps. What was this worthy's name?"

"Mr. Donkey"

"Ha-ha… You do realize not everybody has animal names Emmabee?"

"Yes, but the name fits him."

"Well, your Mr. Donkey sounds like a good enough man. You did not detain him long, I hope."

"No, Mama. He was quite uninjured, and very nice to me."

"How did you get such uncommon good sense, my darling?"

"You must choose, Mama. I cannot be both a terror and uncommonly sensible."

 _"And why can you not?"_

* * *

"Why Miss Emma Bee, how delightful to see you again."

"Good afternoon, Mr. Donkey."

"I must say you are turned out very elegantly. Your dress is very pretty, and uncommonly well made."

"Thank you, Miss Donkey. Mama made it."

"Your mama is exceptionally good with a needle, Miss Bee."

"Yes, she is the best."

"If I remember correctly, you should be six years old now, Emma?"

"Yes sir. My birthday was in August."

"I am sorry I missed it. What day is it? Perhaps I might be here next year."

"August 26"

"You seem uncommonly smart for a six‑year-old Miss Bee?"

"Thank you, Miss Donkey. Mama says I am a terror."

"Ha-ha… You said that last time, Miss Bee. "

"She says there are many types of terrors, but she always laughs when she says it."

"A wise woman. Where are you off to on this fine day, my lady?"

"Mr. Horse lets me stay a few hours in his bookshop. He likes my company and so long as I do not damage them, he lends me all the books I want. He says it costs nothing to let me use a book. He is such a nice man."

"You like the pictures, then?"

"I can read, you know! _I'm not stupid!_ I like the pictures, but they need a story to go with them. Mama reads with me every night, and gives me lessons, but I can't wait to read big books by myself. I can still only read the children's books, so sometimes I have to make up my own story with the pictures."

"I see. All in good time, young Miss. All in good time. By the way, my sister is not Miss Donkey any more. She is now Mrs. Swan."

"A pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Swan."

"Well Miss Bee, Mrs. Swan is off to the modiste for a ballgown. We are hosting a ball at my estate to celebrate her marriage. I am to Mr. Horse's bookshop. Might I escort you my lady, and perhaps we could read together for a while?"

"Thank you, Mr. Donkey. I would like that."

* * *

"Mama, I saw Mr. Donkey again today."

"Was he pleasant, Emma. Not all gentlemen are, and I would not have you distressed."

"He was perfectly amiable, Mama. He even helped me find a book to read. He knows a lot about books."

"Why do you talk like such a big girl, Emmabee? I swear you speak better at six than my sis… er…. someone I once knew spoke at fifteen."

"You taught me that, Mama."

"Of course, but sometimes I wonder if I should. Ah well, it is too late to change it now. Would you like to learn to sew this seam?"

"Yes, of course… after we have our treats.'

"Are you always hungry, Emmabee my darling?"

"Of course, Mama. Would you not fret if I were not?"

"No doubt, sweet girl… No doubt."

* * *

"Miss Bee. It is wonderful to see you again, but I am afraid I missed your last birthday."

"Thank you for thinking of me, Mr. Donkey. Mama says I am quite insufferable about being eight years old."

"As well you should be, young lady. Miss Emma Bee, may I have the pleasure of introducing Mr. and Mrs. Bingley?"

"Mr. Beaver! Mrs. Beaver! A pleasure."

"A delight Miss Bee. You remind me of… someone I once knew."

"That happens a lot, Mrs. Beaver."

"Yes, I can see something familiar as well. Perhaps you are just such a delightful girl that we all wish we knew someone like you before."

"Perhaps"

"Now you sound like… well, never mind. Shall we call on your mother, Miss Bee. I have never had the pleasure of her acquaintance these few years."

"She is not here, Mr. Donkey. She is off at an estate plying her trade. I am staying with Mr. Horse and his wife for two days."

"That is unfortunate. I should like to have met her."

"Perhaps another time, Mr. Donkey."

"Miss Bee, would your mother object to some biscuits and tea. I would be delighted to spend an hour with you while the gentlemen go about their tedious business."

"That would be wonderful, Mrs. Beaver. I am certain Mama would not object if Mr. Donkey will tell Mr. Horse."

"I shall be happy to, Miss Bee."

* * *

"How was your trip, Mama?"

"Trying, Little One. Very trying! It was quite profitable though, as the Earl's family throws money to the wind, but there was one woman so hateful I refused to make her dress. She was awful, but Lady Matlock was wonderful so it was a good enough trip."

"I am sorry it was distressful, Mama."

"We shall get by, Emma. We did well. Perhaps you might choose another book of your own from Mr. Horse?"

"Truly"

"Yes, Truly"

"You are wonderful, Mama!"

"As are you my little Emmabee!"

* * *

"Mama, I saw Mr. Donkey again and he introduced me to Mr. and Mrs. Beaver."

"You have not outgrown your animal names, I see?"

"Would you like me to?"

"Not at all. I never want you to grow up. Besides that, I do not care to associate with gentlemen, so I am just as happy to not know their real names. I do not mind you meeting them so long as it is in the lane or the bookshop where all our friends can see you, but I am not very inclined myself."

"He did ask to be introduced to you. He seems a fine gentleman, but has no wife."

"Gentlemen do not come into modiste shops, Little Emmabee, and I prefer to keep it that way. His lack of a wife is of no importance to us. You see him every year or two, and that should be enough to satisfy him. If he wants more company, he should arrange to spend time with his own children."

* * *

"Fitzwilliam, did you know Miss Bee has no father?"

"I suspected it, Jane. Did you talk about it?"

"Yes. She has apparently never had one, nor wanted one, and makes no bones about it. She is completely open and unashamed on the subject. I admire her greatly."

"Her mother never married?"

"No. According to Miss Bee, there have been offers, but her mama is not so inclined."

"The story is probably not one you want to dig too deeply into, Jane. There is usually a reason a woman has a baby sans husband and a disinclination for men. She is not usually at fault, but pays the price anyway. We should not importune her. The woman deserves her privacy and respect."

"Of course not, but I worry about Emma. What happens if her mama falls on hard times or gets sick?"

"Let me deal with it. I cannot help everyone, but I am quite enamored with Miss Bee."

* * *

"Mama, Mr. Donkey said the strangest thing today."

"I hope he did not say anything untoward, Emma. "

"No, not at all, Mama. He seems to be a true gentleman. Mrs. Beaver asked about my papa last time they were here, and seemed worried I did not have one, nor any close relatives. She seems such a sweet lady."

"Do not worry little one. I took steps long ago to insure your safety should something happen to me. Mr. and Mrs. Horse will see to you, and I have set aside quite enough money to see you well settled. That is why I have worked so hard all these years. Our shop is quite profitable."

"I know that, Mama. I told Mr. Donkey, but he seems… well… unsatisfied."

"It is not his place to be satisfied or dissatisfied."

"I agree. It was very strange. He asked if I would set his mind at ease by taking his card and promising to call for him should I ever have a need. He said I should show you the card so you know there is nothing unseemly about it."

"How were you to contact him?"

"He wrote a short note to go with it, and said the postmaster, or Mr. Horse, or any gentleman in the region would know how to contact him."

"It seems… a strange thing to do. It is worrying, but not overly so."

"Should I show you the card Mama? or burn it?"

"No, Emma. Remember my lessons of propriety, and insure you are _never_ alone with any man, but otherwise, this seems harmless if you trust him. Save the card for just what he suggested. You will never need it, but it is always good to have more options in life. Sometimes having one true friend might be the difference between life and death, and he has always been kind to you."

"Have you ever needed such a friend, Mama?"

… …

"Yes, I have. You and I would not have survived otherwise."

"I am sorry I caused you pain, Mama."

" **Do not ever say that**! You are the best thing that ever happened to me Emmabee, and I would not change a single second of our life. Never doubt it for even a moment."

"Yes, Mama."

"Let us get to our books, sweet thing. I am tired and ready for bed."

"Yes, Mama."


	2. Birthday

_A/N: Thanks everyone for the tremendous response. Guess you guys like my little Emmabee. I'm quite enjoying all the speculation about her identity, so I guess I might give another hint or two. Note that the size of this story is about what I originally planned (40k or so), but I am breaking it up into smaller chapters so there will be more than I speculated last chapter, some of them quite small. When I have a small one though, I'll post two._

 _So, let's say Happy Birthday to Emmabee._

 _Wade_

* * *

"Mr. Donkey, good day sir. It has been several years, I believe! Four or five at the least. Welcome back, Sir."

" **Miss Bee!** Happy Birthday! You must be fifteen today! I am so happy to have encountered you. I… I… I… I… I… I… I… I… I… I…"

"Mr. Donkey, what is wrong. You look as if you have seen a ghost. Am I so frightening to look at? I know I am at an awkward and gangly age, but I am not _that_ bad, am I?"

"I apologize Miss Bee. I just… I just… I just… do not fear. There is not the slightest thing wrong with your appearance, or anything about you. Quite the contrary! You are everything lovely, and quite the most beautiful young lady I have ever seen."

"I… I thank you sir. I may disagree, but your opinion is in accordance with Mama's so I will believe you. But no matter… why the long face, sir?"

"Miss Bee, I… well… I need to speak with your mother."

"As I may have mentioned before, Mama prefers not to meet gentlemen. You have known me nearly ten years, though I have not seen you in at least five. Do not worry. Mama knows of you, and she trusts me to know the good from the bad. She has no desire to meet you, so you need not trouble yourself. All is well."

"Nevertheless, I must speak with her. It is important."

" _I should rather not, sir._ What she has is _not_ just a _slight, thin sort of disinclination_ for gentlemen. She actively avoids them."

"Please! It is important!"

"I do not know, Mr. Donkey."

… …

"Please, Miss Bee. I would not ask if it was not important."

… …

"Why should I prefer your comfort over my mother's, Mr. Donkey?"

"I have some information she should know."

… …

"Very well, Mr. Donkey. I will oblige you, but this will _not_ go well. She will _not_ be happy. Come this way if you insist."

* * *

"Where have you been these last several years, sir?"

"I did a tour of the continent, and had important business in the Americas. I am sorry I have not seen you."

" _Why should you be sorry, sir?_ Our acquaintance is very slight, and I did not miss you. I was just curious."

"Slight, yes… but I… I… I apologize, Miss Bee. I am discomposed."

"I can see that sir. I cannot account for it, but Mama will know what to do. She always knows what to do."

"Your faith in your mother is heartening, Miss Bee."

"She is my mother sir, and…"

"… and?"

"… and this may sound boastful, but it is simply the truth. I am intelligent… _very_ intelligent according to Mama and everyone else I know. I believe I can be objective, and my mama is a cut above the rest. That is not just a daughter's pride sir, she is special."

"I can well believe it. Nothing else could produce a child like you."

"Mr. Donkey"

"Yes"

"I am embarrassed to admit it, but I cannot remember your name. I was only a child when you introduced yourself."

"Your mother never asked for it? Or looked at my card?"

"No. sir. She has always trusted my judgment, even when I was little. We always had shopkeepers or her footmen watching us when we met. You have never been in my presence without at least one set of eyes on us. I never actually looked at your card. I just put it away in a drawer. I am quite well protected so your generosity was superfluous."

"Your mother is a wise woman, I believe. Allow me to reintroduce myself. Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy at your service."

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Darcy. I believe you are the master of Pemberley, if I am not mistaken? I never made the connection because I frankly never really thought about you very much in between meetings. Pemberley is not quite as important here in Kympton as it might be in Lambton, but it is generally a well-regarded estate."

"I thank you."

"Here is Mama's shop, sir."

" _This is the shop where my sister gets her dresses made!"_

"Yes, of course! I always thought you knew that."

"To my chagrin, I never paid any attention."

"No chastisement necessary, Mr.… er… Darcy. Gentlemen never pay attention to such things. It is one thing that attracted Mama to the profession. As I said, she does not care for gentlemen. Prepare yourself for a cold reception."

"Does she dislike men in general, or gentlemen?"

"Gentlemen. She is perfectly content with tradesmen."

"I understand."

"Oh dear, I forgot to finish my introduction, since I never told you my real name. _Miss Emma Bennet_ , at your service, sir."


	3. Modiste

" **MR. DARCY!** "

"Miss Bennet. It is a pleasure."

"Please do not call me that, sir. I go by Mrs. Rush in public or Mrs. Bennet in private."

"Of course."

"Please tell me you are not the infamous Mr. Donkey."

"I am afraid I am, Mrs. Bennet."

 _"I might have known."_

"You do not seem pleased to see me."

"My apologies, sir. You just startled me. You have been kind to my Emma, and for that I thank you, but I do believe we have nothing more to say to each other."

"Do we not?"

" _Certainly not_ _!_ We have nothing in common except five weeks in company sixteen years ago, and you have been kind to my daughter perhaps a dozen times. I thank you for that, but we are finished here. Good day, sir. I hope you are in good health and contentment."

"That is all you have to say."

"Yes, that should suffice. We each have our own affairs to deal with, and I fear I am busy today."

… …

"Do not take it personally, Mr. Darcy. I told you Mama does not like gentlemen very much. I am sorry I brought him here Mama, but he was insistent and would not be dissuaded."

"You did nothing wrong, Emmabee. Mr. Darcy is accustomed to having his own way, and he likes to arrange things as he pleases. I should have asked about his real name years ago. This is my fault."

"You consider encountering me a fault, Mrs. Bennet?"

"Let us not bandy words, Mr. Darcy. We never liked each other back in the place we met before, and there is no reason to change that now."

 _"You believe I disliked you in… that place?"_

"Yes of course, right from the first moments. The assessment was from your own lips, Mr. Darcy. I was not eavesdropping, since we were in a public assembly. None of our subsequent interactions were anything but contentious, so yes, I believe our mutual dislike was a well‑established fact. Ask your friend Mr. Bingley, presuming he is still your friend, if you doubt me."

"Perhaps I have improved in sixteen years."

"I have no idea, Mr. Darcy and no desire to find out. Please leave, and do not seek us out again. We really have no business together."

"So, this is all the reply I am to receive. I might wish to enquire why, with such a little endeavor at civility I am to be tossed aside without even a few minutes of conversation."

"Both of our opinions were quite fixed years ago, Mr. Darcy. Emma _could not have interrupted two people in Derbyshire who had less to say for themselves._ I am quite satisfied with our previous level of discourse. _"_

"And we can have nothing else to say to each other?"

"Please, just go away Mr. Darcy. I am not unprotected, and I will have you forcibly removed if necessary."

… …

"I beg your pardon. Miss Bennet, do you think you could please leave us for a moment. I wish to speak privately with your mother."

"Mama?"

"I will be fine, Emma. Go to Mrs. Horse. I would like to get this unpleasant interview over and done with."

"Are you certain, Mama?"

"Yes. Go out the back and make sure Tom is handy but not able to hear us."

"Yes, Mama."

* * *

"Elizabeth…"

" **DO NOT CALL ME THAT**! At least show that your manners have improved since Hertfordshire. It should not be that much of a challenge, considering how low that standard is."

"You thought me unmannered?"

" _From the very beginning-from the first moment, I may almost say-of my acquaintance with you, your manners, impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form the groundwork of disapprobation on which succeeding events built so immovable a dislike._ From your own lips I heard things like ' _not handsome enough'… 'slighted by other men', 'uncles in trade'…_ that sort of thing, although I imagine you do not remember, since I assume you say similar things about other women at most public gatherings. It was a long time ago, and our association was unpleasant, but very slight. I have no compulsion to extend it. Go find another woman to annoy, Mr. Darcy."

"You have said quite enough, madam. I must admit…"

"Save your breath to cool your porridge, Mr. Darcy. We are finished here."

"Not quite."

"Are you to accost me in my own shop? I caution you, it will not end well."

"The name on the front is Mrs. Rush."

" _What of it_! I am the fourth Mrs. Rush. We keep the name and the reputation when the shop is transferred. I am her chosen successor. There is nothing distasteful or untoward about it. Everybody knows how it works… well, everybody important anyway. You just do not know because you are a man, and this is ladies' business."

"My apologies, I did not mean any criticism."

"And yet you deliver it. I am afraid you just cannot help yourself, Mr. Darcy. It is your very nature. Now, if you are quite finished…"

"Not quite. I must show you something. Will you look at it?"

"I would prefer not. I should much prefer you just leave me in peace."

"Please?"

"You are trying my patience, Mr. Darcy. Need I point out that you are acting in a very ungentlemanly manner in _my shop_ in which you _have not been invited_."

"Yes, I can see that. But I would beg of you, Mrs. Bennet. Just one look."

… …

"Will it get you out of my shop?"

"Yes, I give you my word."

"That is not as much comfort as you seem to think it should be, Mr. Darcy… but let us just get this unpleasant chore over with."

"Thank you. Please look at this."

… …

… …

" _Why are you carrying a miniature of my Emma, Mr. Darcy_ _?_ Are you even more reprehensible than I gave you credit for?"

"You truly despise me, Mrs. Bennet?"

"We have covered that in some detail, Mr. Darcy. I have never liked you, nor you me. I am no longer a gentlewoman, so may speak my mind freely. You are a rich and powerful man, and I like your sister. Those are the only reasons I have not had you thrown out… _yet_. Your exit from my shop is inevitable. All that remains to be decided is the manner of your removal, and whether you will walk away or be carried."

"I owe you quite a large number of apologies, Mrs. Bennet."

"You owe me nothing save your permanent absence."

… …

"Answer the question, Mr. Darcy, and then get out of my shop. Why do you have a miniature of my Emma?"

… …

"I am waiting, Mr. Darcy!"

"That is not a miniature of your Emma."

"Who is it then?"

 _"That is a miniature of my mother when she was fifteen."_

… …

… …

"Mrs. Bennet! Mrs. Bennet! **Mrs. Bennet!** Are you well? Mrs. Bennet! _Let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill."_

" _go away, mister darcy"_

"I cannot, you are not well."

"Go away, Mr. Darcy."

"Mrs. Bennet, please."

"Go away, Mr. Darcy."

"Please, Elizabeth…"

" **GO AWAY MR. DARCY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! GO AWAY! LEAVE MY SHOP! NOW! THIS INSTANT! LEAVE ME ALONE! LEAVE ME IN PEACE! DO NOT COME BACK! JUST! GO! AWAY!** "

… …

… …

"Madam"

"I will be fine, just go away."

… …

… …

"Go away, Mr. Darcy. I am well."

"Very well, I shall return tomorrow."

"I would ask you not to. We have nothing more to say to each other."

"You know I must."

"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy."


	4. Visits

"Good morning, madam. I am looking for the owner."

"I am Mrs. Rush."

"I mean Mrs. Bennet."

"She has gone, sir."

"Gone?"

"Yes, sir. I have been her successor these four years. I took over the shop last night. I am Mrs. Rush now."

"Where did Mrs. Bennet go?"

"I have no idea, sir. Might your wife be requiring services, sir?"

"Not just now, but I am certain my sister will be by sooner or later."

"I shall look forward to it, sir."

* * *

"Mr. Huston, where has Mrs. Bennet gone."

"I have no idea, Mr. Darcy. She said Goodbye, but did not wish to put me in an awkward position, so she did not tell me. I am sorry sir."

" **Blast!** "

"Have you a _particular_ interest in Mrs. Bennet, sir? I know I am just an old bookseller, but I look on her as family and would not like anything bad to happen to her."

"You need have no fear, Mr. Huston. My intentions are honorable. I just wish to help her, but I believe I frightened her."

"She is not easily frightened, sir."

"No, I imagine not, but I managed to do it. Made her quite angry too."

"I am sorry sir. I cannot help you."

"Do not worry Mr. Huston. I honor you for your protection. If you should happen to hear from her."

"I will not tell you, Mr. Darcy."

"I would not expect it. Just tell her I am sorry… for... and I beg her to relent and talk to me."

"I shall pass the message if I can, but Mrs. Bennet does not usually dwell on the past. She will not contact me again."

"I thank you, Mr. Huston."

* * *

"Jane, Charles. Thank you for coming so quickly."

"Fitzwilliam. What has happened? You look as if you have seen a ghost."

"That is exactly what Emma Bee said… and it seems I have."

"Explain yourself?"

"Please sit down, Jane."

"Oh, dear… that bad?"

"Yes, that bad."

… …

"That will be all, Mrs. Reynolds."

"Yes, sir."

… …

"Out with it, Fitzwilliam!"

"I met Emma's mother."

"How bad could that be? She is a delightful young lady, and her mother must be nothing but the best of women."

"Oh, she is, I can assure you. The most delightful and impressive woman I ever met in my life."

"So, why the long face, sir?"

… …

… …

"Spit it out, Fitzwilliam?"

"I met young Miss Bee when she was but five. You both know how she likes to give everyone animal surnames, and we have never changed the practice. Her appearance has changed dramatically in the past five years while I was away."

"Yes, Fitzwilliam. I saw her in the village last year. Her hair color and facial features changed so much she was hardly recognizable, although her personality still shines from a dozen paces."

"Yes, I noticed her altered appearance… altered so much that… I _recognized_ her. Remember that time we all thought she reminded us of someone? It turns out she did. _Emma Bee_ is actually _Emma Bennet_. Her mother is _Elizabeth Bennet_. She has been here right under our noses for over a decade."

… …

… …

"Elizabeth… Elizabeth… **Elizabeth** … After all this time! **ELIZABETH** … We must see her at once! Call the carriage!"

"We cannot?"

"Why ever not?"

"We quarreled, and… and… and… _she has left_ , I know not where?"

"What did you quarrel about?"

"Well… well…"

"Fitzwilliam…"

… …

"Out with it Darcy! You are looking quite wretched, but frankly I am much more concerned with my sister."

… ...

"Charles, do you remember the day I fell from Poseidon while the Bennets were at Netherfield and Mrs. Thompson gave me a dose of laudanum?"

"Yes, I remember exactly. You thought ants were pouring down the wall like oil from a barrel. Then you thought your valet was plotting with Napoleon against you, and if I remember correctly, I believe your bedding was either afire or infested with rats… or maybe both. It was all quite diverting until you fell into a deep sleep."

"Yes, I imagine it was."

"I believe the Bennets left early the very next morning while you were still abed. Then of course, we had several days of rain, and then the ball. We left Netherfield the next day, and you and Caroline persuaded me to stay away."

… …

"Charles…"

"Save your apology Darcy! I cannot stand another one. Jane and I have left it behind, so you should too. It all worked out in the end. We are happy."

"Well, I brought it up for a reason. I have to make a confession."

"This sounds… _serious_."

"It is."

"Best get on with it, man."

"Well… that night… as you mentioned, the very last night the ladies spent in Netherfield, the ants and rats were seemingly not my only dream. I believed I had the most intense dream of… of… of… well, of having… er… relations with Miss Elizabeth… marital relations."

" **YOU DID NOT** **!** "

"I am afraid I did."

… …

"I see why you have never confessed it all these years. Rather unseemly for the fastidious Fitzwilliam Darcy, but I imagine we all have our dreams. I daresay… well, I shall discuss my dreams with my wife, but not you. I imagine it is quite natural to dream of a Bennet sister."

"Yes… To my chagrin, I was besotted with her and did not even know it. I thought her unsuitable, and ran from her like a cur. The dream was _entirely_ too intense and lifelike. It frightened me to death."

"Well… it is a bit unseemly, but this dream does not seem so very terrible, Fitzwilliam. I know you did not like Elizabeth, and she barely tolerated you, but… how bad could it be?"

"No Jane, it was the best dream of my life… and your sister disliked me, but I did not dislike her at all… only… well…"

"Out with it, Fitzwilliam. What did you quarrel with Elizabeth about and how are they related."

"I showed her this?"

"Is that Emma? I saw her last year while you were in Boston. She has changed so much since we last met her together, what was it, perhaps four or five years ago? I could barely recognize her. Now, this is her exact likeness. _What are you doing with this, and where did you get it? Why are you carrying a miniature of my niece, Fitzwilliam?_ "

"That is not Emma. That it is my mother at fifteen."

… …

… …

"So, you are implying…"

"I am not implying. I am saying it outright."

"Say it plainly, Darcy."

"That night in Netherfield was no dream. **_It happened_** _!_ I imposed on your sister, Elizabeth, in the worst possible way. I am Emma's natural father, and your sister _hates_ and fears me so much she came within an inch of having her footmen threw me out in pieces. Then she disposed of her shop overnight and disappeared. Oh, and by the way, she is Mrs. Rush, and she has been making dresses for all of my relatives for years."

" **NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO! NO!** "

"That was badly done, Darcy. _Very badly done_ _._ I very well should call you out over it."

"Yes, I am afraid so. You would be well within your rights."

"Is that why you are unmarried at over 40, Darcy?"

"Yes. I did not know about the child, but I thought… well, you know what we all thought. We have believed her dead all these years."

 _"_ _We must find her_ _!"_

"She has not contacted you in all this time, Jane. Why is that?"

… …

… …

"Jane"

… …

… …

"Jane"

… …

… …

"It starts to make sense. Father learned she was with child, but I do not believe she would identify the father and I never suspected you. Frankly, I was incapable of even entertaining the thought. With the whole regiment in town, there seemed much likelier candidates. I am the only one that knew about… it, and only because I overheard Father having a row with Elizabeth when everyone else was away and he thought I was away too."

"What kind of row, my love?"

"A very bad one. Well… Elizabeth was sick when we returned from Netherfield, and the symptoms were very much like my illness so we all assumed she had caught it. The symptoms changed over a fortnight. First she was feverish and had something like I had but worse, then it gradually seemed to change to a stomach ailment where she could not hold anything down. She never really recovered."

"Take a deep breath, my love."

"Elizabeth was in bed most of the time between leaving Netherfield and the ball. Father somehow worked out the truth, and he took her away in our carriage. He told everyone she was ill, and going to an eminent physician in Bath. Eight weeks later, he told everyone in the neighborhood that Elizabeth was… dead… that she had succumbed to her fever. That was all before Charles and I were reunited. I do not know if he believed or fabricated it, but he was very convincing. I did not believe the part about going to Bath and the physician, but I did believe she was dead. I could not conceive of Father lying about something like that."

"If your father was not already dead, I would go kill him."

"Steady on, Darcy."

"Do not judge him too harshly Fitzwilliam. Charles had not come back yet, nor did he seem likely to, and Father's health had declined precipitously. His very survival was in some serious doubt. Elizabeth's abrupt departure over supposed health concerns had created speculation and the potential for scandal, no matter how we tried to cover it up. Our prospects were meager at best. Imagine what they would have been with a declared scandal instead of an implied one. Father was belatedly trying to protect what we had left."

"Still would kill him."

"It is too late for such thoughts now. His efforts were too little too late, but in the end, he at least tried. Elizabeth really was ill when we returned from Netherfield, and was sick as could be for a fortnight before she left. That is why she did not attend the Netherfield ball, and enough servants saw the symptoms to believe it a fever. Nobody suspected the real cause. I would have stayed home with her, but Mama forbade it, and with Papa showing signs of weakness, I could not disagree with her… for once in my life. Our position was… precarious, and I did not believe Elizabeth _that_ ill."

"So, your father pretended he was taking her for treatment?"

"Yes"

"Do you think your father knew it was me, Jane?"

… …

"Jane?"

"I doubt it. Even the most indolent father in the world would have hunted you down and made you marry her. Lizzy either did not tell him, or he did not believe her. The episode was… well… it was loud, and it was unpleasant. It was all over quickly and she was gone before I even knew. I doubt she believed Father capable of such cruelty."

"Here, take my handkerchief my love."

 _"Why would she not tell him?"_

"You say she is still afraid of you sixteen years later, and by all accounts keeps a footman capable of doing you harm? Do you imagine she wanted to be forced to marry you back then? _After what you did_ _?_ Forgive me for saying it, but she was being perfectly rational. Who would willingly sign up for that experience for the rest of her life?"

"No, I imagine not. I was such a fool, and she paid the price."

"She never wrote even once after she left, but it seems likely the family that Father placed her with just did not allow her the privilege. We all thought her just too ill. Father said he took her to a physician in Bath. I knew better, but I do not believe anyone else did. He claimed he had learned it was consumptive and highly contagious, so none of us could go nurse her, even if my mother would allow us to leave when there were two eligible men to be hunted. It was only six weeks or so before Father told us the story of her death. He wove his story about the disease progressing until she finally succumbed under the care of a good physician and nurse. I imagine she must have run away, and the family father placed her with tried to cover it up."

"So, she has been alone, friendless, penniless and unprotected all this time because she was stubborn."

" **OR AFRAID!** Do not minimize that, Fitzwilliam. You have not the right. You have no rights at all, I am afraid! I am curious though, why do you say 'stubborn'?"

"She has lived in Kympton, 25 miles from Pemberley, on the road to London, for well over a decade. She made Georgiana's come out ballgown and her wedding clothes. She could have introduced Emma any time, or learned my true character from my sister by simply asking, but she chose not to."

"If you accosted her in her bed, probably violently, and abandoned her, do you blame her?"

"No, I cannot. I must find her and make amends."

"She does not want to be found. You should leave well enough alone. She was clear enough."

"I cannot."

"If you hurt her again, Darcy, you will answer to me."

"Understood. I will be very careful, but I cannot leave it as it is."

… …

… …

"We will help you Fitzwilliam, but you should understand you are on _very_ thin ice."

"Understood."

"Perhaps I should be the one to contact her, Fitzwilliam?"

"No, Jane. This is my mess to sort out; and do you think she knows Georgiana personally and would be unable to find you if she wanted to talk to you?"

"No, I imagine she knows I overheard the row and did not intervene. She probably hates me as much as she does you and my father. I was formerly her closest confidant, so my betrayal was probably the worst of all."

"Perhaps… We must be very careful."

* * *

 _A/N: I would like to acknowledge another writer and recommend a story. I got the idea for the laudanum fueled sex from the most excellent story Havenswood by Babsy1221_. I didn't mention it earlier because it would be a bit spoilerish. I highly recommend it.


	5. London

"Aunt! Uncle Gardiner! Thank you for agreeing to see us."

"Always happy to see you Jane, Bingley; and it is an honor to make your acquaintance Mr. Darcy."

"The honor is mine, sir!"

"To what do I owe the indulgence. None of you have the look of a social call."

"Uncle… Aunt… _Elizabeth is not dead."_

"Yes, we know."

" **You know?** For how long? When did you plan on telling me?"

"We have known for a year or so, and I planned on telling you never! Or when Elizabeth gave me leave, which amounts to the same thing. The two of you severed connections with her when she most needed you, and Mr. Darcy, you have no connection at all!"

"You blame me for her loss, Uncle? How?"

"Jane, I love you dearly, but there was a time when you needed to be less of a serene little bunny‑rabbit and more of an advocate for your sister. Did you hear her father yelling at her? You know you did, and she knows as well. She saw you. Did you intervene? Did you take your father to task? Did you watch him take her away in his coach and do nothing? Did you write to me, or ask Sir William for help? Your sister had _nobody_ in the darkest time of her life. _You do not get to complain about her choices now!_ _"_

… …

"Jane, I hate to be harsh but this is your problem. Your tears have no effect on me, so either dry them or go back home. I have no time for such nonsense."

… …

"Will you tell us where she is, Uncle? Is she at least still in England?"

"If she wanted you to know where she is, you would know."

"Will you give her a message?"

"If she wanted a message from you, she would either ask for it or contact you. None of you are hard to find."

… …

"Can you at least tell us if she is well?"

"She is fine. The move cost her some of her savings, and it will take months or more likely years to bring her custom back to its usual levels, but she is doing well. She is _very_ good in her profession, and probably wealthier than I am. You need not concern yourself with her."

"Is… is… is Emma well?"

"So, you know!"

"Yes, Uncle we know. Unbeknownst to us all, Mr. Darcy has met Emma off and on for the last ten years."

"And in a decade, the surname 'Bennet' never rang a bell, Mr. Darcy? I am astonished."

"She introduced herself as Emma Bee when she was five years old. I never learned her real surname until the day Elizabeth left."

"Did she give you leave to call her that?"

… …

"I thought not. I know why you are here, Mr. Darcy. Please, I beg of you, leave her in peace. She should not have to run again, but she most assuredly will if you keep hounding her, and next time you will _never_ find her. I am actually surprised she has not left yet."

… …

"May I show you something, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner."

"No need, Mr. Darcy. I know who Emma is, and who her long absent father is. Elizabeth knows where you live sir, and has known for some time, and _chose_ not to introduce you. I doubt she could have been clearer."

"I see you do not like me, Mr. Gardiner."

"I speak as I find, Mr. Darcy."

"I appreciate that, sir."

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, sir"

"Do not presume _any rights of any kind_ with regard to Emma. You are a powerful man, but I am not friendless either, and there are few limits on how dirty I am willing to act to protect my niece. Elizabeth fears you trying to steal Emma more than anything in the world."

"I would **_never_** _!_ "

" _She does not know that, nor does she have any reason to trust you._ I will take you at your word for the moment, but _do not test me_ _._ I believe we are done here."

"Good day, Sir. If you do happen to talk to her, will you tell her something?"

"I am not so inclined."

"Should your inclination change, please just tell her that I am sorry… I am so very sorry for everything, and I would like to make it up to her. I beg for a way to make amends."

"Make it up by leaving her in peace, Mr. Darcy. She has never accepted a farthing from us, and we only learned she was alive a year ago, but she is quite under my protection and I take that seriously."

"I honor you for it, sir… but I beg of you."

"We shall see."

"Have you any idea why she waited so long to contact you."

"Her father was an idiot. If he was not dead already, I would meet him at dawn. I did not learn the full story for years, but he browbeat her mercilessly about how her behavior would ruin all her sisters, all her nieces and everyone else who ever knew her. He _assumed_ she dallied with a soldier or one of her male friends and would accept no alternative explanation. He thought that if it was one of the Netherfield gentlemen, she would have just secured him. He even claimed it would hurt her friends like Miss Lucas, or my children if she kept an association. She must have taken him at his word for a time. She avoided all of us to protect her sisters and our children, and then just never changed the habit."

"If he were still alive, you would have to shoot me in the back to get at him."

"Perhaps you might be redeemed, Mr. Darcy… but I am not optimistic."

"I live in hope, Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner."

"Do not presume to understand her, Mr. Darcy. She was betrayed thrice in one month, and had not a single noticeable defender. Those who were supposed to protect her betrayed her, and her father manipulated her into betraying herself. She will not speak a word about how she got from that horrible family her father placed her with to Derbyshire, but I believe she ran with nothing but the clothes on her back. That might make anyone afraid. Her father attacked her at her most vulnerable point – her love of her family. You have a sister, so perhaps you understand."

"I understand thoroughly, Mr. Gardiner… most thoroughly."

"Leave her be, Mr. Darcy. I will not warn you a second time."


	6. Serpentine

"I am sorry, Mrs. Bennet."

"Nathaniel, what on earth could you be sorry about?"

"He offered… He said… He… Well… I did not know what to do… he… I… here, ma'am."

"Nathaniel, that is a crown. Where did you get it, and why are you trying to give it to me?"

"A gentleman I did not know met me at Mrs. Wilson's when I delivered the dress. He asked me to deliver a letter to you. He knew your real name, not the name on the shop. I am sorry, I did not know what to do so I took the crown and the letter."

"You did nothing wrong, Nathaniel. Put that coin back in your pocket."

"Yes, ma'am."

"Nathaniel, you are a good boy. Sometimes rich men might ask you to do something dishonorable, and sometimes they will ask you to do something acceptable just to save themselves the trouble. So long as you are not asked to do something _wrong_ , you should take their money. You and your sister deserve it."

"How do I know if it is right or wrong?"

"Sometimes it is difficult to tell, but when it is _wrong_ , you will usually know. When in doubt, do not take the money."

"Was this wrong, Mrs. Bennet?"

"No Nathaniel, the gentleman acted badly putting you in this position, but there was nothing wrong with taking the commission. A man like that has money running off him in sheets, so he does not understand how it works for those beneath him. He thought it a reasonable sum, but it is too much if you are just delivering a letter, and too little if I should discharge you; which I have no intentions of doing of course."

"It was not just delivering a letter, Mrs. Bennet. He charged me to remember some words that I was to say to you exactly."

"You should discharge your duty my boy, and go help your sister. I am vexed at him, but not you."

"Yes ma'am. He said to tell you, _'Please do not assume this letter is another attempt to importune you. I know you will not wish to hear from me, and my sense of justice says I should leave you in peace, but I cannot but help to make one last attempt, so I would beg you to read this. I shall not bother you again without leave.'_ "

"Very good, Nathaniel you have discharged your duty. You need not worry yourself. All is well."

"He also said that if I came back to report that you accepted the letter, he would give me another half‑crown."

"Where are you to meet him?"

"He says he will be at the North end of the Serpentine every Thursday at 2 o'clock."

"Very well Nathaniel. Would you take a quarter-crown to stay home and help your sister?"

"That is too generous, Mrs. Bennet."

"Perhaps, but I shall give it anyway."

"Thank you, Mrs. Bennet."

"Good night, Nathaniel."

* * *

"Miss Bee, I am happy to see you, though quite surprised."

" **Do not call me that**! I am not a child anymore, Mr. Darcy. I am _Miss Bennet_ to you."

"My pardon, my lady. I meant no offense."

… …

"What are you doing here Miss Bennet? Is your mother with you?"

"No, Mr. Darcy, I am quite alone. Mama has not decided whether to read your letter, burn it or bury it in your chest with a knife. I am here because I overheard the boy who delivered your letter, and I want to understand this."

… …

"Do not look like that, Mr. Darcy. I was not eavesdropping… not really, and I know it was you because who else could it be?"

"You did nothing wrong, Miss Bennet. I admire your resolve… but… why are you here?"

… …

 _"_ _You break things, Mr. Darcy._ _"_

"I beg your pardon."

"You heard me! _You break things_. _You are a selfish man_ , and you break things. You have broken my family. I am here to understand _why_ , and to try to get you to leave us in peace. You have stolen my Mama, and I want her back. I need to understand so we can put the broken pieces back together."

"What did your mother tell you? I would not want to go against her wishes."

"That is just it, Mr. Darcy. You have even made that impossible. Mama and I have been close as two peas in a pod all my life, until four months ago when you uprooted us. I had a home. I had a happy mother. I had a secure future. _I had everything_ , Mr. Darcy. _I wanted for nothing_ _._ Then you came to the shop, and all was lost… everything but my mother, and she is… altered. She once feared nothing, and now she fears everything. I wish to know _why_."

… …

"Miss Bennet, I will explain it if you demand it of me, but I wish you would ask your mother first. I have already overstepped."

"Mr. Darcy, no matter what you think of Mama, she is the best mother in the world."

 _"_ _Make no mistake, that is exactly what I think_ _!"_

"Perhaps you _think_ that, but you do not _understand_ _that_. You cannot. You do not have the experience or character. You seem to be somewhat on the dense side, so need I bludgeon it into your head?"

"I would appreciate it if you would."

" _I know what I am, Mr. Darcy_ _._ As I told you years ago, _I am not stupid_ _._ I am born on the wrong side of the blanket, illegitimate, bastard, bye‑blow, bachelor's daughter, whore's kittling, merry-begotten, fatherless, natural daughter – pick one, Mr. Darcy. I have heard them all."

"Miss Bennet…"

"Let me finish! _I know what I am_ , and Mama has never shielded me from it, and yet this very fact allowed me to quite easily separate the wheat from the chaff. I just ignored anybody who looked down on me. I was always loved; always looked after, by more than one family. Every time you met me, there was at least one pair of eyes on me. Why do you think Mama, the most frighteningly smart woman in the world, was willing to send a five‑year‑old to the haberdashery for thread? She knew I would be watched and cared for from start to finish. **My mother did that… all by herself… and you took it away.** "

"Emma… Miss Bennet"

"Mama has never sugarcoated my parentage, Mr. Darcy. All my life, she told me exactly what I was, and taught me to hold my head high regardless of what anyone else thought. All my life, she answered _any_ question I would ask… _save one_. She has never, even once, even vaguely, hinted about who my natural father is, and I have never asked. Frankly, I do not really care and never have. I hope to never meet him."

"That is…"

"Do not interrupt, sir! I do not know what hold you have over Mama, Mr. Darcy, but she is _frightened_ of you? I have seen her stare down an angry blacksmith without batting an eye, but _she is afraid of you_. I imagine you know who my natural father is, or you know something about her past, or know her parents, or she owes you money, or she can bring scandal to you, or you want to protect one of your noble relatives, or… well, the possibilities are endless. You are the magistrate for our district, so for all I know you think her to have run afoul of the law, which by the way seems to be written entirely by men and for men."

"It is nothi…"

" _You are a selfish man, Mr. Darcy!_ You did not stop for even one minute to think that she perfectly well knew you lived 20 miles away and never contacted you. Once you knew who she was, you just had to accost her in her own shop that very day with no thought and no warning. You could not _think_ about it for a day, or even _think about how she would feel at all_. You only thought of yourself. You just had to frighten her. You just had to make us uproot from all those people who knew and loved us. We can never return, you know. We can never feel safe again. Now that you have found us here in London, I will be surprised if I am not in France or America within the week, assuming I get away from you at all. You did all that without a thought, because you are a rich and powerful man and you are used to ordering the lives of everyone around you. Not all of us like to be ordered. **_So once and for all, explain yourself, sir_** **!** What hold do you have on my mother, and how can we be rid of you?"

… …

"I am finished, Mr. Darcy. You may speak now."

… …

… …

"I am waiting, Mr. Darcy."

… …

… …

"Mr. Darcy?"

… …

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Miss Bennet. I cannot find a single thing to disagree with, and I have been filled with abhorrence and shame for quite some time… years, in fact. It is true! I have acted in a reprehensible manner. I have _not_ acted the gentleman in so many ways. I can never make it right, but I hope you will one day be persuaded that I am trying to make it _less wrong_."

"Well… I imagine that is progress of a sort."

"Why do you think your mother has kept your father's identify from you all these years?"

"I can only deduce, Mr. Darcy. I frankly never thought about it at all until you showed up. I assume the man was either dishonorable, powerful or more likely both."

"Why do you say that?"

"If he were honorable… say a soldier or a gentleman or a man who proposed marriage, and they just anticipated their vows… I believe Mama would have told me. If he was a vagrant, or criminal, or a man who accosted her but she did not know him, or he had no power, she would have told me. The only combination that makes sense is dishonorable _and_ powerful. I believe you know who he is, and accosted my mother with that knowledge that day in her shop."

… …

"That is very good thinking, Miss Bennet. I know very few ladies your age who could even discuss such matters."

"I am not most women, Mr. Darcy… and neither is my mother."

… …

"Miss Bennet, will you allow me one hour of your time? I wish you to visit my home, which is just across the square. We can be there in ten minutes, and I shall deliver you safely home after."

"For what purpose, sir?"

"I wish to answer your question, but borrowing your own words, I do not want you to _know_ _._ I want you to _understand_ _._ "

"What are you asking? I am not stupid. I will not go somewhere with you alone. You are lucky I am willing to stand here in public with you."

"Do you see that lady standing by the bench over there?"

"I do."

"That is your Aunt Gardiner. You know her?"

"I do."

"You trust her?"

… …

"Mama does, and that is good enough for me."

"Good. She knows and trusts you, and she very sensibly _does not trust me_ _._ Will you place yourself under her protection for one hour to visit me in my home. If that is not sufficient, you may return home and bring someone to help you. I know your mother has a couple of very able footmen. I have sent all the servants except my housekeeper away for the day, as I had some hope your mother _might_ come. It will be just you, myself and Mrs. Gardiner. Will you trust me that far?"

… …

… …

… …

"Very well. I have only met Aunt Gardiner a few times, but I will give her the benefit of the doubt."

"Believe me young lady, you should always trust your mother. She is… she is something special. _She is very much the best woman I have ever known_."

"That is true. I know, but am surprised you do – I guess it is something that you at least are aware."

"Believe me, Miss Bennet, I know it very well."

"Mrs. Gardiner! Would you please accompany us to Darcy House?"


	7. Darcy House

" _Well, that explains it! You are my natural father!_ I guess that gives weight to my dishonorable and powerful hypothesis."

"Yes… I am your natural father. That is my mother - your grandmother. That is how I finally recognized you. The resemblance was not very marked when you were younger, and I have not seen you for four years. Mrs. Bingley saw you last year, but she has never seen a portrait of my mother, and you look _very_ different from myself, your mother and my sister; but you could be twin to your grandmother."

"I can see that. That explains why you nearly swooned when you saw me in Kympton?"

"Yes, it was shocking to see what looked like my mother's ghost after nearly 30 years. Both of your grandfathers are dead. Your maternal grandmother lives in a cottage in Hertfordshire. The lady you called Mrs. Swan is your aunt, Georgiana, my younger sister. My mother died when Georgiana was very young, so she does not remember her, and I imagine you have not seen her for some years since she lives nearer to London now. The lady you called Mrs. Beaver is your Aunt Jane – your mother's eldest sister. She has three others; Mary, Catherine and Lydia."

"And you abandoned my mother after you left her with child?"

"I did. I make no excuses. I did not know that she was with child, or even that I had lain with her, but that is no excuse. Do you know what that means?"

"Yes sir, I understand all about how babies come into the world. Would you expect any less of my mother?"

"No, I would not. I must emphasize I am not making excuses, but you asked for an explanation. Your mother was staying at my friend's house nursing her elder sister."

"Yes"

"I was injured in a riding accident, and was given laudanum. I… imposed… on your mother, but at the time and thought it a dream. I had many hallucinations that night, and I thought this one more. Your mother left the house the next day while I was still abed, and I never saw her again until Kympton. Do you know what laudanum is?"

"Need I keep reminding you sir, _I am not stupid_. It is a mixture of Opium and Alcohol. I have seen it used after childbirth for pain sometimes. Some react well, and others do not. Some people give it to babies… some think it is the very devil's brew."

"I concur with the latter view. I… reacted badly… very very badly. I thought the whole thing a vivid dream."

… …

"So, you entertained improper thoughts about my mother but thought them a dream, so naturally you decided to abandon her without even talking to her, or apologizing, or calling on her, or insuring that she was well, or that it _was in fact_ a dream?"

"Yes"

"I guess that is not _quite_ as bad as accosting her deliberately… but the distinction is not that much of an improvement. It was very badly done, no matter how you look at it. No wonder she hates you."

" _There is no distinction at all._ I make no excuses. I was entirely in the wrong, in every possible way."

"Yes, you most emphatically were!"

"I accept the responsibility. Right now, I want to make it up to you, or at least quit disrupting your lives. I cannot go back and pretend I do not know you, and give you and your mother back your feeling of security. I can only try to make things less bad."

"I guess that is something."

* * *

"Did you know she was sent away in disgrace, Mr. Darcy."

"I thought so eventually, but not for quite some time, and I was never actually told. Her father told us she went away because she was ill, and the next I heard of her a few months later, they said she was dead."

" **DEAD!**"

"Yes. It is a long story. She has a headstone in her childhood home. Except for your Aunt Jane, and your Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, her family all _still_ believes her dead. Your Aunt Jane only knows because I told her. Your mother has never chosen to contact any of them, for her own reasons."

"And you never thought to examine the veracity of the claim of her death?"

"It never occurred to me that a father could make such a blatant and horrific lie."

" _You do not get out very much, do you, Mr. Darcy?_ Fathers do that sort of thing every day."

"Yes"

"Natural fathers do much worse."

"Yes"

* * *

"I must go to my mother!"

"Will you allow your aunt to escort you in my carriage?"

"I cannot imagine any situation that will ever cause me to step foot in your carriage, now or ever, sir. If my aunt wants to walk with me, she is welcome."

"Will you accept her carriage? She is not a strong walker."

"If I must."

"You sound exactly like your mother."

"I shall take that as a compliment."

"I meant it as one. She is the best woman I have ever known."

* * *

"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy. Do not contact us again… **_ever_**! Do not follow us. Do not importune us. Cease your investigations. Neither help nor hinder my mother's business. Leave us in peace. **_If_** my mother eventually decides to read your letter she will, but if not, you will leave us be. You have been seen taking a fifteen-year-old girl into your home, nearly alone. Nobody knows our relationship, you cannot prove it, and I have no qualms about starting unpleasant rumors, loudly and publicly. _You_ can be threatened by scandal and ruin even worse than _my family_. I was born ruined."

"You would do that?"

" _You have no idea, sir!_ I would do that and much worse to protect my mother."

"I admire you for it, Miss Bennet – much more than I think you can imagine. In fact, I admire everything about you. Your mother did a splendid job raising you. You shall get no censure from me. I shall wait and hope for a reprieve, but if your mother decides to terminate the acquaintance, you need have no fear. I will accept whatever decision the two of you make. I will leave England myself if it would make you feel secure. Just know, that I am at your disposal, anytime, for anything so long as I live."

"Goodbye, Mr. Darcy."

"Adieu, Miss Bennet."

* * *

"Are you so very angry with me, mama?"

"Of course not, Emmabee. You showed far more courage than I did."

"Not courage Mama… well, not really. I just could not see you suffer and do nothing after you have protected me so very well every minute of my life. I had no idea what I was getting myself into, and how distressing it would be. Considering how different the three of us look, it never could have occurred to me in my wildest fancies that he might be… well, what he is."

"He is your father, Emma. You may say it."

"Perhaps, someday."

"It was bravely done Emmabee, whatever you think. I should have told you years ago, or at the very least when we moved so abruptly… but… but… well… I just could not find the words. Your appearance was what had me feeling safe and secure for so long. I thought it impossible he could see either parent in the child, and there was very little chance of him bumping into me in my shop. I just could not leave my home when all seemed secure enough."

 _"What will we do now, Mama?"_

"I do not know, Emmabee. _I have no idea!_ Do you believe he will leave us in peace?"

… …

… …

"I cannot be certain, Mama, but he freely admitted to every bit of the blame and his own fault, more than once. He made no excuses, even when I offered them to him on a plate. I do not trust him much farther than I can throw him, but I do believe he will mostly keep his word, at least for a while, or at the very least he will not test our resolve."

"I believe that as well. Did you really threaten to ruin him?"

"I did!"

"Good for you! It was foolhardy, and perhaps a bit meanspirited, but very brave."

"Mama, he has been kind to me for a long time. Perhaps, we can simply ignore him for a while."

"We can try, Emmabee. We can try."


	8. Letter

_A/N: As always, I am so so so so happy for all the reviews. I'm finding the reaction to this story a little surprising. There are way more long and detailed reviews than usual, lots more thoughtful guessing, and lots of variance in opinions. If I boil it all down, I can come up with a few key things everyone agrees on though._

 _1._ _Lizzy really should talk to Darcy, they should come to a resolution and have an HEA complete with ponies and rainbows._

 _2._ _Lizzy should really have driven a stake through his heart sixteen years ago, but she may as well do it now at her leisure._

 _3._ _The writing style is way to light and frivolous for the seriousness of the subject matter._

 _4._ _The writing style is way too heavy, and the author spectacularly abused the word 'moderate' when he claimed 'moderate angst'._

 _As you can see, lots of disagreement on nearly everything… but hey, that's a good thing. There is however one point of agreement. Just about everyone loves my Emmabee, and boy, can she deliver a setdown!_

 _A little side-note. The ants pouring down the wall like oil was an actual story from my father when he had heart surgery. People have a very wide range of side‑effects from opioids, so Darcy's actions are not quite as uncharacteristic as you might think. Emma's appearance skipping a generation is uncommon, but it happens._

 _I do expect this story to be controversial, but will defer a lengthy discussion until the end. I am very much enjoying all the thoughts and opinions in the reviews, so please keep them coming, although I don't have time to reply personally to more than a few here and there._

 _So… what do you think? Should Mrs. Bennet read the letter or not?_

 _Wade_

* * *

"Emmabee, it has been two months since your visit with… with… well, with your father. I believe it is time to open the _Dreadded Donkey Letter_."

"We can always burn it, Mama. It is my strongest inclination, but I imagine it is better to know than to keep guessing and living in uncertainly."

"I am no longer so frightfully afraid of him. He has kept his promises. I only go to the ticket office once a week now, instead of every day."

"I am glad, Mama. As you well know, my French accent is atrocious."

"You are your mother's daughter. If only we could go to ancient Rome, since our Latin is so good."

"That seems like it would be inconvenient."

"Yes, I imagine so. I think they speak English in America, more-or-less?"

"Yes, that would probably be easier than Gladiatorial Rome."

"Should we quit woolgathering… I guess I cannot really call you Little One anymore."

"I shall be most vexed if you ever quit, Mama… but I imagine we should carry your point and get to it."

* * *

 _To Mrs. Elizabeth and Miss Emma Bennet,_

 _Be not alarmed, madams, on receiving this letter, that I intend to allow any of your darkest fears to take place. Please know first and foremost that I am very well‑aware that I am completely at fault in the matter before us; and that I think all day every day of how I might apologize and make amends. I will promise you with the sacredest oath I may swear, on the memory of my departed mother who looks exactly like Miss Bennet, or indeed all my ancestors, that I will_ _never ever under any conditions_ _take the slightest step to remove child from mother, and would gladly give my life to prevent such a miscarriage of justice. Such an act would be reprehensible beyond belief, and while I can understand your fears, which are just and reasonable given our shared history, and I can also very well understand your reluctance to take me in my word, please rest assured that will be the case._

 _I make no excuses, only explanation. I freely admit that I was thinking improper thoughts of the then Miss Elizabeth when she was at Netherfield. A badly chosen dose of Laudanum precipitated the assault on your person in your own bed. I can make no excuses, no justification, no vindication. I was entirely in the wrong, but for what it is worth, I swear I would not normally do such a thing, or even contemplate such. It is so abhorrent, it never occurred to me even once that I was capable of such a reprehensible act, and the vividness of what I thought was a dream was the major force in removing myself from the neighborhood. The evening was full of all sorts of hallucinations, most of which I will not detail. I will make no excuses for how badly done my exit was, as it is completely inexcusable. If I had only taken my leave as a gentleman should, I would have known your plight soon enough to intervene on your behalf. I can only apologize over and over, and try my best to make reparations. I do not seek forgiveness, only a chance to help._

 _I have tried my best to find a way that you may take this assurance without the need to take me on my honor which is so sorely in question. While I may swear up and down upon this or that, you have no reason to trust me for I have given you none. Your assessment of my arrogance, my conceit, and my selfish disdain were all accurate for the man you knew in Hertfordshire; and I confess, when I recognized Emma in Kympton, I missed an opportunity to behave better. I believe I can say unequivocally that in the entire association, I have never acted in a gentlemanlike manner even once._

 _I would hope that I am a better man now, despite how badly I reacted to the shock. I have had years of instruction and example from your worthy sisters and their husbands, and I believe I am not the man I was. I might offer you character references, including your own family, but as I am to understand it, even that may not be reassuring given your past._

 _I can only come to you on bended knee as a man awestruck that a woman could enter such a terrible position, placed there by none other than myself, and emerge the strongest pair of women it has ever been my good fortune to meet. I understand your path has been long and hard, fraught with perils and difficulties, and I can only hope that I may either ease your path forward, or at least no longer make it difficult. The fault is entirely mine, and I would hope you will allow the remedy to be as well._

 _With that prelude, let me suggest a way in which I hope we may reach an accord. Acknowledged or not, Emma is my daughter, and my fondest hope would be that she might come to know me as her father, but that may only happen if we may build a bond of trust and felicity. That may only happen, I believe, if you could remove the entirely reasonable fear that plagues your heart. Only from then could we try to repair the rift created by my actions._

 _With that in mind, I have thought long and hard, and I believe I have a solution. It is not a good solution, just the least bad one I can come up with. You fear me because of my actions, but also because I am a very rich man. I therefor propose we even the field, so that you may afford all the protection you need to be secure. I would leave England forever if it would make you comfortable, but I do not believe that would really help very much, so allow me a suggestion._

 _The second page of this letter outlines a legal agreement I have already executed. If Emma were raised as my daughter, she would get the same dowry my sister received of £30,000. Had I the good sense to propose to you 15 years ago, and had I the good fortune to have you accept me (I know that was unlikely, but please bear with me), I would have settled £20,000 on you to cover you during your lifetime, and support any unmarried children._

 _I never married, and have no intention of ever marrying, so I have simply put those monies in a blind account for your disposal. The money is yours to do with as you will, but I would hope you will use it to purchase some peace of mind and security; perhaps powerful protectors, or more footmen, or anything to make you feel safe. The deed is done, and I may not control the money in any way or retract it. The papers give you control of the fortune, and whether you take it or not; the funds have already been removed from the Pemberley accounts forever._

 _I suspect you will be full of righteous anger at my officiousness, but I believe you will eventually agree that it is done and done for the best. I can do no less, and I can only hope that you will allow me to occupy some small part of your life._

 _To that end, I will walk on the North end of the Serpentine with your Aunt Gardiner, every Thursday afternoon from two o'clock to three, for the next three months. It is a very public place, perfectly safe. If you should like to talk to me, I would welcome a visit, with as many footmen as you consider necessary to feel safe. You are of course always welcome at Darcy house, although I have not told the staff that policy to protect your privacy. If you present the enclosed card, you will be brought in immediately at any time, day or night. I would also be happy to receive a note from your Uncle, or directly from yourself, and I will meet you anytime and anywhere in the world you desire._

 _The third page lists the direction for your mother and all your sisters. As you know, I already told Jane about you, but have told nobody else, nor will I. Jane has sworn to keep your secret, so communicating with your family is entirely your choice._

 _And lastly, let me please extend my sincerest apologies for all the pain and vexation I have given you. I realize perfectly well that it is too little too late, but I should very much like to make it up to you._

 _I hope to become affectionately yours,_

 _Fitzwilliam Darcy_

* * *

"I hate him even more!"

"Arrogant, insufferable man!"

"He thinks he can buy us."

"Apparently"

"He wants to put us in the first circle so he can… well, who knows what he wants. Probably to court us, or perhaps just reduce the scandal if your paternity becomes known, or just make us more accessible or less embarrassing."

"What will we do, Mama? I do not want to be an heiress. I can barely stand those I've met long enough to take their money."

"I do not know, dearest."

"It is funny, Emma."

"What is that, Mama?"

"He wishes to apologize, but you can never go back. I would not trade the last fifteen years for anything in the world. I hope you know that."

"Of course, Mama… but I like to hear you say it anyway."

"I hope to repeat it often."

"Am I still a terror, Mama?"

"Of course, Emmabee. You shall always be."


	9. Reply

_A/N: Thanks for all the thoughtful comments._ _Please keep them coming. It's an interesting debate. Is it possible to forge an HEA from such an inauspicious beginning? If possible, is it even desirable? I guess we'll find out eventually. A bit of a longish chapter tonight. It's about double the usual, but no good place to break it. We are starting to pivot here, and you just might get to see a bit of what Elizabeth is thinking._

* * *

"Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

"Yes. Yes! Out with it, man! I have an important engagement. I cannot tarry."

"I have some freight for you. It requires your signature, sir."

"I will not sign for freight I know nothing about."

"It is most important, sir. I am instructed to park my wagon in front of your townhouse until you accept it. The shipper was very specific. I will not get paid unless you accept it."

"That might be some time."

"I have been paid to wait for months if necessary, sir."

"Very well. What do you have?"

"3 crates of 250 pounds each, sir."

"You do not know what they contain?"

"No sir, I would not intrude in your business."

"Very well. Stack them in the stable. I will open them at my leisure."

"Very good sir. Please sign here."

* * *

"Mr. Darcy. I need to replace the floor in the middle stall. Those crates have been in the way for a month or more. Might I open them or dispose of them, sir?"

"I had quite forgotten them, Jones. Now that you remind me, I am curious. Shall we see what they contain."

"Yes, sir. Let me get a pry bar."

* * *

"This one has a letter on top sir, and the rest is wrapped in burlap."

"Curious! Give me the letter and open the bag, please."

… …

"Is that what I think it is, sir?"

… …

"That depends, Jones. Do you think it is ten, twenty-five-pound bars of gold?"

"Yes sir, that would be my guess."

"Let us open the rest."

* * *

"All the same, Jones?"

"Yes, sir."

"Astounding!"

"What is that sir?"

"What's astounding? Let's see. Perhaps we can start with the fact that we left £50,000 worth of gold in the stable unguarded for a month."

"Yes sir, that would be on the unusual side."

"Or that it was delivered by the stubbornest woman in England."

"That might be less out of the ordinary sir. I find most men can identify one of them, and their wives can do the contrary."

"You are a wise man, Jones."

"I try sir. Shall we move them, or leave them for another month."

"I imagine we need to take them to the bank now. I will take some medicinal brandy before reading the letter."

"A wise choice, sir."

* * *

 _Mr. Darcy,_

 _I apologize for the long delay in responding to your letter, but it has taken me two months to read it, and another month to manage to write a reply civil enough to keep my quill from catching fire. I am afraid this is the best I can do, as I have no more tears to spill over the matter._

 _You sir, are like the proverbial bull in the china shop. Every time you move, you take away_ _my_ _choices, and you take away_ _my_ _daughter's choices. My ability to organize my life reduces with each meeting._

 _At Netherfield, you took away nearly every choice I had in life. I am to understand you were under the influence of laudanum, which some might take as a good excuse. However, I have some experience with it, and I believe that Opium_ _reduces inhibitions_ _, but does not_ _change intentions_ _. You_ _intended_ _to take my virtue, and while you ordinarily would never in a hundred years have_ _acted_ _on it, your_ _intention_ _was there. You were not thinking of honorable marriage at Netherfield, for if you were, you might have tried something radical and unexpected, such as pleasant conversation, or refraining from insulting me publicly, or reining the Bingley harridans in. Yes, I remember them, and I remember you watching me fend off attack after attack without a word, while you just stared at me in what appeared to be disapproval._

 _In Derbyshire, you suddenly discovered Emma, and just_ _had_ _to accost me straightaway without a moment to pause and think how it might affect us. Did it ever occur to you that I have always known_ _exactly_ _who Emma's natural father was, and_ _chose_ _to keep you separated_ _for a reason_ _? Did you think there could be another candidate… that I was a lightskirt… that there was any doubt in my mind? Did you ever think that I had a perfectly good reason for_ _not_ _contacting you? Your precipitous action took away my choice to live in the place I had chosen and the life I had chosen. It also took away my choice to live without fear. I easily avoided you for 15 years, and suddenly found you in my shop, placing_ _my_ _daughter in danger. There is no choice where Emma's safety is concerned, so I took the only option you left me. Had it ever occurred to me that you would recognize her, I would have left Derbyshire years ago, but I have never seen your mother and since Emma does not favor either of us in the least, I thought it so unlikely you would recognize her, or ever encounter a modiste, that I thought myself as safe there as I would be anywhere. I reckoned that should I ever have the misfortune to meet you, that it would never even occur to you that she was your natural daughter, so I would not even have to take the trouble of making up a convincing lie. Had you asked, I can assure you I would have lied to your face without the slightest qualms._

 _After our previous altercation, your letter took away my choice to let_ _my daughter_ _choose her future. She was an honored and accepted member of society, who knew her place and loved it. She lost that with your officious interference. You tried to force her to choose between staying in the sphere where she was raised and was happy, or taking her place in a society that will ridicule and despise her, chased by every dissolute fortune hunter in the ton, all for a pile of gold that she can neither eat nor enjoy nor love. In fact, she cannot even spend the money at her own whim unless she chooses to remain unmarried. You blithely assumed I had no fortune, but I assure you sir, my shop is quite profitable and Emma need have no concerns in that score._

 _Now at long last, you have taken away my ability to take pride in a daughter well raised and comfortable. I was always enough, always knowing her future, and worked toward it every day. Now, I shall always have to worry that something will happen to her, and I will not have the resources to see her happy; even though I have been very successful and am quite well off. I will always be looking over my shoulder, and reevaluating every action, wondering if I should have asked for help from you or my family; or conversely run farther away as soon as I could afford it. I will always have to worry she might end up with an unsuitable husband because of my obviously flawed knowledge of men, or worse yet, she will simply adopt my cynicism and never be satisfied with anyone – quite possibly the worst fate of all. I will always worry one of your acquaintances or enemies will learn of her and do her harm or simply try to ingratiate himself with her to get at you, all of which is entirely possible. It seems likely a man like you must have any number of enemies or jealous rivals. Was it difficult to guard your sister from rakes? I imagine it was, and imagine how much harder it would be with Emma._

 _Lastly, you told her of her parentage without my leave, and took away_ _her_ _choice to remain blissfully ignorant of your identity; and_ _my_ _choice to reveal it to her in the right time, at the right place, and the right way. You cannot complain that she asked and you could not resist, as that is the coward's way out; and need I say she would not have been there at all if you had done as I asked._

 _Now, I must_ _decide_ _whether to deny my daughter the right to know her father. I must_ _decide_ _if she walks down the aisle on her father's arm, or he watches from the shadows, hidden away and trying to stay out of my sight; or more likely does not know of the event at all. If I_ _decide_ _to keep you at a distance, I must_ _decide_ _if I am being right or being selfish. Am I looking to Emma's comfort or my own? I no longer have a choice of being ambivalent about you. I now must_ _decide_ _what is best for her without reference to my own happiness, so yet again I must make choices I would rather not have to make, and I have an ever-narrowing set of options to choose from._

 _But none of that is the_ _worst_ _. In that regard, I can barely put pen to paper, and there is not even the slightest chance I could ever say this aloud; and I would beg you to burn this after you read it._

 _The worst was_ _that night_ _in Netherfield. When you came into the room and… and… well, you know, I was fast asleep. I awoke groggily to the feeling of some pain and a man on top of me a head taller and two stone heavier, and I was terrified. I could not scream for danger of destroying my reputation and my sisters' along with it. I could not slap you for fear of attracting either violence or attention. I could not even ask you to quit, again out of fear. You reduced me to only one choice that would not destroy myself and my sisters. My only option was to endure it and hope I did not fall with child. Only one choice._

 _When you left, I was reduced to spending the entire night hiding the stains on the bedding, (which involved stealing sheets from a closet and burning the others in the dead of night), and subsequently deciding whether to ask my fifty‑year‑old father to demand satisfaction from a sportsman in the prime of his life, once again destroying the reputations of all my sisters, or enduring a forced marriage to such a man, or doing nothing and hoping it would all go away. Only one choice._

 _I was violently ill all the days between when I left Netherfield and the ball, so I had the choice of hoping for the best, or somehow getting a note to you to call on me, which would either precipitate my complete ruination if you called me a liar, or a forced marriage to a man who would do such a thing… or I could once again hope for the best, and perhaps have a quiet word with you at the ball, or ask Jane to talk to Mr. Bingley._

 _The night of the Netherfield ball, I was reduced to the choice of casting the contents of my stomach in a bucket or across the assorted other ladies and gentlemen of the ball. At the time, I could still convince myself I was not with child, since I had never been educated on the process, and I had both the early symptoms of increasing and a much worse flavor of Jane's illness. That meant I could make a scandal or hope for the best, while waiting a few days to try to talk to you privately. Only one choice. In the end, I could not even trust in Jane, as I procrastinated until the very day of the ball, and fell deeply asleep hours before she left and nobody had the heart to disturb me._

 _When you left the next day so abruptly, and I was no longer able to hide my condition from myself or eventually my father, he gave me no choices at all. He bundled me up and left within hours while everyone but Jane was away, and Jane did not intervene. The horrid family he placed me with reduced my choices to allowing the cruel husband to starve me, importune me again, possibly kill_ _my_ _baby; or to run and probably starve anyway but at a later date. The husband spent all my father's money on drink. Only one choice._

 _You may wonder why I never applied to my family for assistance, including my most sensible Aunt and Uncle Gardiner. My experience of that first year taught me that at every turn, when I relied on anyone but myself and those that took me in; or allowed anyone else to interfere with my life; my choices were reduced and my life got worse._

 _On the other hand, once Emma was born and I held her in my arms, an entire world of possibilities opened before me. I stumbled upon someone who helped me when I thought I was lost, and a real future could be entertained. I could_ _choose_ _which profession I was to enter, so long as it was sufficient to take care of our needs. I could_ _choose_ _which people would associate with my daughter. Should I lack enough food to feed both of us, I could_ _choose_ _to feed her rather than myself. I could_ _choose_ _each end every day whether to treat her with the love a child needs, or the open disdain my parents showed me, or the censure or indifference I felt certain you would display. I could_ _choose_ _to raise an intelligent and thoughtful woman rather than the thoughtless creature most of your contemporaries seem to be. I could_ _choose_ _to try to make us happy, using any means necessary. In other words, when it was just Emma, myself and the friends we made in Derbyshire, the world was a wonderful place. Are you surprised that I would not seek anyone who would harm that?_

 _One morning in Netherfield, I overheard you tell Caroline Bingley that our lack of connection and fortune and our other connections to trade would reduce our chances of marrying men of any consequence in the world. That was true, although it was funny to have a tradesman's daughter saying it. I had no idea how true it was, nor how much worse my choices would get so I just laughed at the both of you._

 _Now, at long last, sixteen years later I can finally laugh at both of you again. If you are reading this letter, it means I have managed to give you back the burden you so unceremoniously dumped on my head, and you will do your best to keep it quiet as knowledge of the debacle will paint you in a much worse light than it would me. You are now over forty, and have never really loved anyone to the best of my knowledge; while I have had the most delightful fifteen years with the best girl I have ever met. Caroline Bingley married a dissolute rake with a title, and has less fortune than she ever did. In the end, you were actually overly optimistic about my chances of marrying a man of consequence, as they were nil; but it turns out both of you were similarly situated._

 _As per your letter, I shall say that I have now purged my system of some of the bile and spleen I have been carrying around since you came into my shop. I would say for years, but in truth, I never thought about you all that much in the intervening time. Whether it was uncharitable or exactly what you deserve I cannot say, but I find myself unable to repent the words._

 _Now that we have that unpleasantness behind us, and have said what my sense of justice insists must be said, let me come to my main point._

 _I have_ _decided_ _not to be afraid of you anymore. I eventually, after an enormous amount of thought, worked out that, to the best of my knowledge, you have been kind to my daughter for more than a decade when you did not know who she was, knew her to be far beneath your sphere, and had nothing to gain but a few minutes of her company. It seems unlikely you will be less kind to your own natural daughter than you would be to an unknown modiste's child. You also did something officious and selfish; but probably the best you could think of to offer us protection. A man raised like you probably received lessons in the efficacy of money in solving all problems with your wet nurse's milk. You could hardly think any differently. It seems unlikely anybody of your sphere would ever force you to change your thinking, and looking at things from another's perspective is not in your nature. However, taken in a prudential light, a more neutral person would probably say you were doing your very best to aid our comfort and security. My sense of justice demands I acknowledge that._

 _I must also acknowledge that your apologies were clearly heartfelt, your offer of reparations honorable, and I cannot truly chastise you for anything other than the initial act, and trying to force my hand. You told us that you would leave England if it would make us feel secure, and so long as I can convince myself you were in earnest, I must admit it is a generous offer. We cannot undo the past, but you do appear to be trying to help the future._

 _So, following your protocol – With that prelude, let me suggest a way in which I hope we may reach an accord._

 _I am certain you know where my shop and home are. I will be very surprised if you do not know much more than that, so I will offer two things._

 _Firstly, I will refrain from criticizing you for your interest in my business, or your own natural daughter. Were our roles reversed, I imagine I would not be able to help myself either. In this matter, I will do my best to give you the benefit of the doubt, no matter how difficult… and make no mistake of two things sir; this is_ _entirely_ _for the benefit of the daughter we share; and it will be the most difficult thing I will ever do – but I will try._

 _Secondly, I shall mention that there is a park three quarters of a mile west of my house. Emma and I walk there every Sunday from two o'clock to four. If you can degrade yourself enough to dress in a style suitable for_ _our_ _station, and you either take a hack or the oldest nag in your stable, so you do not attract too much attention; you may walk with us. You will find me as skittish as a new colt, I and may very well say more unpleasant things; but I will do my very best to move past it and allow my daughter to come to know her father, as we cannot unspill that milk. I will_ _try_ _my very best to give you the benefit of the doubt, though it seems a Herculean task._

 _I will allow this_ _once_ _, and if you ask at the end if we may repeat it, I will answer you honestly. I can promise no more._

 _I hope to become indifferently yours,_

 _Elizabeth Bennet_

* * *

" **Fletcher** **, I need a hack, and a tradesman's suit… in the next half hour.** "


	10. Park

"Mrs. Bennet… Miss Bennet. Thank you so very much for inviting me."

"Mr. Darcy"

"Mr. Darcy"

"Ladies, may I offer my sincerest…"

"Mr. Darcy – **Please Stop**!"

… …

"Mama"

… …

" _Mama_ "

"I am sorry, Emma. Mr. Darcy."

"No offense taken, Mrs. Bennet."

"Mr. Darcy, may I assume you were _not_ offering sincerest felicitations, but were more inclined towards apology?"

"You may."

"Mr. Darcy, may I…"

… …

"Ma'am?"

"… may I suggest Sir, that we have an embargo on apologies, at least for today."

"I… owe you so much more than apologies, but that seems such an obvious place to start. May I know _why_ you do not wish it? I will of course do whatever you ask, but I would like to understand the reason you will not accept your due _?_ "

"Because… it is difficult to explain."

"I am at your disposal, ma'am."

"There are a couple of reasons… Well, you see…"

… ...

"Take your time, Mama."

"… Before I explain, Mr. Darcy, I must tell you that I have no more secrets from Emma. She has read that letter I sent, and knows our history. She knows it _all_. She may be full young for such knowledge, but she has it nonetheless."

"I am impressed with the both of you – again. Miss Bennet has been astute enough to remind me at least four times over a decade that she is as she says, ' _not stupid'_. Miss Bennet, I have always thought you frightfully smart, even when you were only five years old."

"Thank you, Mr. Donkey."

"Mama?"

"Mr. Darcy, if you apologize… well… you force another choice on me. I must either deny your apology or accept it. If I deny it, I am being churlish, or stubborn or at the very least bad mannered. If I accept it, then… then… well… then, in some small way I am offering you forgiveness for something that may well be unforgivable. Perhaps… in the fullness of time I might be able to accept an apology, or even listen to one… but not today."

"I would not force such a choice on you, Mrs. Bennet. I defer to you. May I however say something?"

"Of course."

"Make no mistake about it, Mrs. Bennet. _I raped you._ I cannot state it any plainer than that. I neither demand nor even desire forgiveness, as the crime is inherently unforgivable. What I seek is reparations or atonement, or some way to make my actions even slightly less impactful on your health and happiness. I will offer apologies or anything I can to ease your comfort, but I would never dream to imply I asked forgiveness. I shall not ask it, now or ever. As you say, the act is unforgivable."

"I… well… I thank you for your candor, Mr. Darcy… I think."

"I can be no less with you."

"Still, I cannot bear an apology at this time, nor will I commit to ever being able to."

"How will I know the right time… if there ever is one?"

"I do not know, Mr. Darcy. Perhaps… maybe… I do not know. Today, I cannot imagine such a day should come to pass."

"But if it should, how will I know?"

"I know not… well… perhaps… um… well… I will give you a sign. I do not know if I can say it outright… maybe… perhaps… if I ever use your given name?"

"That makes eminent sense, Mrs. Bennet."

 _"You_ _do_ _realize it is quite unlikely it will ever happen?"_

"Yes, I accept that."

"I may someday have to offer my own… but not today."

"If you have something to apologize for, it is quite beyond me, Mrs. Bennet. Perhaps I am as dense as Miss Bee believes, but it seems more likely you are taking on a burden you do not owe. _What could you possibly even consider apologizing for?"_

"I cannot say… perhaps I could have given you the benefit of the doubt sooner, or I might have given you a chance to earn redemption."

"Given our history, I do not see how that would have been even remotely possible, Mrs. Bennet. I might not accept your apology for a similar but opposite reason as you will not hear mine. Accepting your apology would imply forgiveness, which would imply acceptance of fault, and I doubt very much I will ever be able to fault you for any part of this affair. The blame is entirely mine."

"We shall see. For the moment, I would choose to leave the subject. May we just leave the issue for today, Mr. Darcy."

"Of course. Shall we walk?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

"Ladies, I regret I did not come and meet you weeks ago. I only recently opened the boxes that contained your letter. I did not realize what was in it."

"I see! Where were the boxes?"

"To my chagrin, I forgot about them. They were sitting unopened in my stable."

" **NO!** "

"I am afraid so!"

"Astounding. I never realized you were quite so lackadaisical, Mr. Darcy."

"All I knew was they were some type of freight, and it arrived as I was on my way to an important meeting. I forgot about them entirely for over a month."

"You left 750 pounds of gold bars in your stable for weeks?!"

"I am afraid so."

"Mama, that sounds like an awful lot of gold. How much was it worth?"

"£50,000, my love. You are not a Darcy heiress anymore? You are back to just your old dowry from me."

 _"_ _Oh_ _! I am so happy."_

"Miss Bennet, can you explain to me your disinclination towards your rightful inheritance?"

… …

"Pardon me, what are you searching for, Miss Bennet?"

"No apologies, remember, Mr. Darcy?"

"My… all right."

"Well, sir, I am simply examining your jacket, to see how much damage that giant matrimonial target you have on your back has done. It apparently destroyed your manners, most of your good judgment and even your enjoyment of life; I would just like to see the target itself, and the marks from the ladies who have managed to get a claw on you."

"Ha‑ha Miss Bennett. So, you prefer to not be an heiress?"

"Yes, unless I am a penniless one."

"Singular"

"Do not tease the man, Emma. Mr. Darcy, she already has a substantial dowry from me, so the penniless ship has already sailed."

"I am impressed. I hope you will tell me how it came about one day."

"Perhaps"

* * *

"Mr. Darcy… do you think… do you… well… could you call me Emma or Miss Bee? I cannot accustom myself to Miss Bennet from you. It seems… awkward."

"It would be my pleasure and privilege, Emma. What shall you call me?"

"I… cannot change too many things at once. Perhaps, in the fullness of time I might call you something less formal, but I am not prepared for that now, and likely never will."

"Your reluctance is perfectly understandable. How about, Mr. Donkey? It was good enough for young Miss Bee, and it seems appropriate to my temperament."

"Very well, Mr. Donkey. That will do for now."

"Yes, my dear, that will do just fine. I thank you for the privilege."

"Shall we walk?"

"Let us"

* * *

"Mama, I see Lucy over there by the pond. I will go visit her for a while so you can talk with Mr. Donkey."

"You will leave me defenseless?"

"Like leaving a bear defenseless, Mama! You are perfectly safe."

"Very well"

"You can take his arm Mama, you know. I do not think he will bite you."

"I am not ready for that, Emma."

"Mama, you promised!"

… …

"Mr. Darcy?"

"I would not make you uncomfortable, Mrs. Bennett, but I would consider it a great privilege if you would consent. I have not earned it, but would enjoy it all the same."

"I will be thoroughly uncomfortable for quite some time, regardless, Mr. Darcy… but I will overcome it for Emma's sake. I have done worse."

"Thank you."

"Off you go, Emmabee. Mr. Darcy and I have things to discuss."

"I will be right over there, Mama."


	11. Walking

"Mr. Darcy, I imagine you are curious what has made me relent."

"I admit I am, but will not pry."

"It is mostly for Emma's benefit, but I am also trying to follow Mrs. Watkins' advice. She always told me to, _'Think only of the past as its remembrance gives you pleasure'._ It is sometimes a difficult philosophy, but I try to live it. _"_

"An admirable philosophy. Is there a part of your past that _does_ give you pleasure?"

" _Of course!_ The entirety of Emma's life has been a treasure."

"I can see that! My entire acquaintance with her was as well… until I ruined it."

"Perhaps… well, perhaps something can be made of your acquaintance with _her_. We shall see."

"May I ask, who Mrs. Watkins is? The name sounds familiar."

"An aging widow who took me in when… well… when I ran from the horrid family my father placed me with. That is how I ended up in Kympton. Her nephew found me shivering and half-starved by the side of the road in Bedfordshire and brought me to his aunt. Her husband was a tenant on your Uncle Matlock's estate. She introduced me to the former Mrs. Rush."

"You ran with _nothing_?"

"The clothes on my back and what food I could take from the family that was supposed to be hosting me. Mostly they were using Father's money to buy gin. Tell me, Mr. Darcy have you ever been _truly_ terrified."

"No, I have not. Not even close, and I will not pretend otherwise. I have been worried for the last few months that my actions endangered you and Emma, but that is not even remotely similar."

"Certainly not! Still, I guess it is better than nothing."

"I will not pretend it is anything of the sort, but I will not lie or prevaricate with you, Mrs. Bennet. I know perfectly well I have a long way to go."

"Yes, you d… well… I will not beat it to death. I am trying."

"That is all I ask, and more than I can expect."

* * *

"You say Mr. Watkins was my uncle's tenant Mrs. Bennet. Do you know my uncle?"

"No, I have seen him pass by but never met him; but I do know your aunt, Lady Matlock. A lovely woman, very generous and easy to please, so long as you treat her fairly and do good work. I think you met Emma one day when I was visiting their estate when Emma was eight or nine."

"I remember that day quite clearly. That was the first day she started reminding me of someone, but I could not put it together. She was still quite young. Her hair was down and much lighter, and her face had not quite matured. I did not put the pieces together. Bingley and Jane felt a similar bit of familiarity, probably because she talks like you; but none of us worked it out."

"I do not see how you could have."

* * *

"Say… are you the modiste who refused to make a dress for Lady Clara?"

"The very same."

"Nicely done! She is a hateful woman!"

"Yes, she is."

"She screamed about it for months, and my sister and aunt enjoyed every minute of it."

"She is part of the reason Emma has such a large dowry."

"How so?"

"She proved the efficacy of my principle that I charge ladies based on how much I dislike them. She was the worst, but there were plenty of others that were nearly as bad. In the end though, I just held my nose and charged them three to ten times the proper amount."

"And they did not complain?"

"No, I think they took it as a compliment."

"Astounding!"

"I even let Lady Clara win a round a year later. We made her wedding dress."

"How much did you charge her, if I might ask?"

"£3,000"

"For **one dress**?"

"Yes, I… well, I made a mistake and painted myself into a corner. She just kept implacably demanding a price until she wore me down. I eventually made up a number enormous enough to shut her up once and for all."

"And"

"She accepted it. I found I had made the price so high I could not turn it down."

"That may well be the most amusing story I have ever heard."

"You should get out more, Mr. Darcy."

"Yes, both Emma and Jane have made the same observation."

"Maybe getting out is not your problem. Maybe you need to listen to advice more."

"That is beyond question. I shall certainly listen closely to anything you or Miss Bee say."

* * *

"You are on a given name basis with Jane, Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes, I am on a given name basis with all your sisters. We have had… well, let us just say we all know each other reasonably well."

"I imagine there is a story behind that statement? It seems… er… unlikely… extremely unlikely. Frankly, I am surprised you can even name them, or count them for that matter."

"There is… a story I mean"

"I understand Jane and Mr. Bingley met Emma before you told them of her parentage. Aunt Gardiner warned me that they know who she is?"

"Yes, I confided in them. I hope you are not overly distressed."

"Distressed or not, it is done and cannot be undone."

"I would apologize if you would allow it."

"I shan't."

"I had to share it with _someone_ after… well, after our altercation in Kympton. Jane and Bingley met Emma several years before, so they were the only people that I felt I could talk to."

"Do not distress yourself. It is natural to share it with your closest friends. I imagine before you told them, all of you might have seen traces of the mother or grandmother in the daughter."

"Yes. We all noticed something familiar about her that day. None of us were capable of thinking beyond that feeling, although I wish I had. I enjoyed the privilege of escorting young Emma to Mr. Horse's shop, and spent two hours with her there. I was amazed at how clever she was, and which books she picked to read. She argued with me just as vigorously as you used to, and I am fairly certain she occasionally professed opinions which she did not actually hold."

"Yes, I imagine she did. The apple does not fall that far from the tree, and we do that at home all the time."

"She said something like that. She told me she is her mother's daughter, and I must agree most emphatically."

"Mr. Horse is a dear man. I have been afraid to contact him."

"He is well. He vacillates daily between taking a pension and running his shop."

"As he has done daily for at least the last 25 years."

"I imagine he will feel a need to get up from his coffin to open the shop."

"I believe I shall write him."

"He would like that."

* * *

"Might I ask what you find so amusing, Mrs. Bennett? That is the closest to a smile I have seen from you in quite some time… well, now that I think of it, ever… at least when in my company?"

"Not funny per se, Mr. Darcy… more… I do not know. Perhaps amusing? Embarrassing? Ironic?"

"You need not tell me"

"No… if we avoid every embarrassing thought, soon we will have nothing left to say to each other."

"Why are you smiling now, Mr. Darcy… or is that a grimace?"

"I just remember something you said in Kympton - Emma _could not have interrupted two people in Derbyshire who had less to say for themselves."_

"I am sorry. I was frightfully angry and afraid that day."

"Are you reopening the floor for apologies, Mrs. Bennet?"

"No."

"I wish you would. I have many to deliver."

"You shall just have to suffer, Mr. Darcy."

"Perhaps we could return to the subject of your amusement?"

… …

"All right. Since Emma very forwardly forced me to take your arm, I just saw my hand there and found it amusing. Forgive my impertinence."

"There is nothing to forgive, but I am filled with curiosity. Might you indulge me? I am not quite as severe as you might think."

… …

"Perhaps not amusement… I believe I shall settle for ironic, Mr. Darcy. Do you know the last time I had my hand on the arm of an unrelated gentleman?"

… …

" **NO!** "

"Yes, I am afraid so! It was sixteen years ago at Netherfield… before… well, before… well, we walked in the garden for a half‑hour before being interrupted by Miss Bingley and Mrs. Hurst and I made my escape."

"I remember you scampered away like a squirrel. I am so…"

"Do not say it, Mr. Darcy… Just try to appreciate the irony."

"I shall try, Mrs. Bennett. I shall try."

"It is difficult to be… in company… with… you… but I… well, I… believe it necessary. I cannot live my life in fear, and Emma cannot come to unknow you. The die was cast when you recognized her."

"I shall do my best to relive you of some of your fear, Mrs. Bennet. I cannot say it in strong enough terms. It seems the only way it can be done is to prove it."

"I am trying, Mr. Darcy."

"I appreciate it. I will not insult you by pretending to know how hard it is."


	12. Netherfield

"Might you tell me what happened… after I left, sir?"

"At the Netherfield ball that you missed… well…ah…"

"Please do not spare my feelings, Mr. Darcy. We have canvassed your shortcomings in some depth. If you have aught to say about my family, who better than I to hear it."

"Well… your mother was… well…"

"Perhaps I can help you along, Mr. Darcy. You seem to have difficulty with adjectives. Perhaps instead of getting out, you need to stay in and read more. Shall we try loud, coarse, rude, vulgar, mercenary… Am I anywhere near the mark, sir?"

"I fear you are spot on, Mrs. Bennett."

"If… well… if… if we are to be in company, Mr. Darcy, I imagine you should call me Elizabeth."

"That seems to be too much of a privilege."

"It is, but I do it for my own comfort, not yours. When you say, 'Mrs. Bennet', I picture my mother. I have not thought of her in years, but the juxtaposition of your voice and that name is too much. It instantly brings back those times… Longbourn… Netherfield…, and… well, for obvious reasons I do not wish that. I can just picture… well… I cannot. You could use Mrs. Rush but that would just be confusing. Just call me Elizabeth. It will make me uncomfortable as well, but… well… it seems silly to be less brave than my fifteen-year-old daughter."

"I appreciate the privilege, Elizabeth, and I should like nothing in the world better than being in your company… and I believe Vikings were less brave than your daughter. She is really something."

"She is that. I will… I will try, Mr. Darcy. It is very difficult, but I will try."

"I ask nothing more. You may of course call me whatever you like. My friends mostly call me 'Darcy'. My sister Georgianna calls me William."

"Yes, I know."

"You have known her all along?"

"Yes, of course! The relationship is not that subtle. I never considered myself in any danger of meeting you, so I was relaxed enough in her presence. Have you ever actually met a modiste?"

… …

"Do not look that way, Mr. Darcy. It is the past."

"It will take me some time… Elizabeth."

"For me as well. Our… acquaintance… will not be without its awkwardness on both sides."

"I imagine not, but I am very happy you agreed to it."

"If we come back to forms of address, I do not think I can adopt your sister's level of familiarity. I think I can manage 'Darcy' or maybe the occasional 'Mr. Donkey'."

"That would make me happy… Elizabeth. I must confess I have thought of you as Elizabeth for many years, and had a difficult time using any other name."

"Well, I am obliged to save you the bother."

* * *

"Elizabeth, I understand you made a lot of my acquaintances' gowns. Georgiana has always raved about the quality of your work. That is the main reason I bumped into Emma so often in a village I would ordinarily not visit. We came for your shop and Mr. Huston's books, right up until she moved closer to London five years ago."

"Yes, your sister was lovely to work with."

"Did you do all the work for the shop yourself? I have little understanding of such matters."

" _Of course not_ _!_ Do you plow your own tenant's fields? I have girls that work for me. In fact, I very rarely make an entire dress. I only do the most crucial cuts and stitches, and my ladies do the rest. Of course, I am the face the customer sees, and the one responsible for the result, so it behooves me to know how to get along with them. I can boast to being quite good at my craft, but it is more about keeping the business profitable than doing every stitch myself. It is far more important to get ladies to part with money than to deliver each piece."

"Interesting. How did you learn the skill, if I may ask?"

"Sewing, business, or dealing with ladies?"

"You already knew how to deal with ladies of the _ton_ in Netherfield, and I can only imagine you improved. No, I am wondering about the sewing and business aspects."

"I had some skill with a needle before. Most gentlewomen of our family's modest means know how to sew reasonably well. We could not afford a modiste most of the time, and frankly our lives were quite dull. Looking back, I cannot believe how dreadfully boring it was. I used to wander the woods for hours at a time just to escape the tedium of life, well aside from my mother's effusions, and my sisters' silliness. We all did needlepoint and sewing to pass the time; and we could not afford many new dresses so we were constantly remaking what we had. I was by far the best of my sisters, but I was nowhere near good enough to make it a profession. Mrs. Rush taught me."

"I would like to hear that story."

"Another day, Mr.… er, Darcy."

"I would like that."

"I can at least give you an anecdote. Do you believe Mr. Bingley practically fell in love with my sister at first sight?"

"Yes, insofar as such a thing even exists, he certainly did… although to be honest, it was a bit of a habit with him."

"I remember that first assembly."

"Elizabeth, I…"

"No apologies. This is a different story. I saw his eyes light on Jane almost the moment he saw her, across a good half‑dozen paces."

"Yes, I remember it that way. He practically dragged me across the room for an introduction."

"What do you suppose attracted him, Mr. Darcy? My sister's beauty? He certainly knew nothing of her character at the time."

"Everyone in Hertfordshire raved about Jane's beauty, so yes… I imagine that was the initial attraction."

"So, presuming Mr. Bingley was attracted to her beauty, could he see it from a half‑dozen paces? Could he see that she was more beautiful than, say, Louisa Golding who even I could not distinguish from Jane at that distance?"

"I never actually thought about it."

"If you are curious, I can tell you what he _could_ see from a half‑dozen paces."

"I would like that."

"We were virtually penniless daughters of an insignificant estate with not much to recommend us other than our charms, and as you well know, most of us did not have much of those. Jane had the most beauty and sweetest disposition, so it fell to her lot to try to attract a man of fortune."

"Yes, I… well, let us just say I am aware of your sisters' need to marry well."

"Here is what you probably are _not_ aware of. It is true that Jane is tall and blonde and beautiful, all the sorts of things that a man like Mr. Bingley looks for, but she was also wearing the _nicest dress_ in the room. Mr. Bingley was not attracted to Jane from a half‑dozen paces… he was attracted to her dress."

… …

"How long did your tutor spend trying to teach you not to scratch her head like that."

"However long it was, it either was not long enough, or I was simply too stubborn. I do that all the time when I am thinking furiously."

"So, what is your conclusion?"

"For my taste, I always thought Jane was really nothing to you… please do not take it with too much embarrassment, but even that first night I could hardly pay the slightest attention to her after I finally got a good look at you."

"You need not shower me with flattery, Darcy."

"It is not flattery, Elizabeth. You should understand something. I am quite incapable of flattery or any other sort of deception. I must be honest with you… I am not capable of fooling you."

"Well… thank you… I think."

… …

"So back to the topic at hand, if I remember correctly, Jane did have a stunning dress that night. I have in fact seen it a number of times since then… as recently as a few months ago. To be honest, she still looks better in it than in any other dress, and I always thought that was because it reminded me of you."

"Did you ever wonder _why_ she wears a 15-year-old dress, and probably the oldest and most faded dress she owns… that she has probably had to let out a few times in sixteen years… publicly?"

"Yes, I must confess I did… but you can imagine I would never ask such a question."

"I will answer it for you, then. _I made that dress, Mr. Darcy. I made it start to finish._ All of us were reworking and remaking dresses all the time, but I made that one for Jane. She was our best hope, and I gave her everything I had."

"Yes, it all makes perfect sense now. Jane never confided that fact in me, or anyone except possibly Bingley as far as I know."

"She would not. Her sisters already know, and nobody else was entitled."

"I can see that. You are by reputation a very good modiste, at least according to my sister. Have you made any other particularly special dresses since then?"

"I have actually only made one dress whole and complete by myself in the last decade, and only one more in the five years before that."

"Oh! Interesting. I know Jane has never been to your shop; though I am surprised Georgiana never managed to drag her there. Pray, who was important enough for the honor?"

"It was… well… um… "

… …

"You need not tell me."

… ...

"I know, but… well… I wish to. You see… well… "

… …

"… It was your sister's wedding dress."

… …

"Do not look so astonished, Darcy, and please do not tell her."

"I will keep your confidence."

"I made her come-out dress as well."

"Astonishing. So, the only three dresses you have ever in your life made whole and complete were for your sister and mine? Can you tell me why?"

… …

"It is embarrassing."

"I shall not pry."

… …

"I did it because I really like her… and… well… acknowledged or not, she is Emma's aunt, and the only close relative that has ever been allowed to talk to her. I could do no less. I did not own the shop when she came out, but Mrs. Rush… the previous Mrs. Rush… allowed me the privilege. She instructed me but did not do a stitch. I believe she guessed the truth, but never pried."

"Will you allow me to let her know you?"

"Perhaps… someday."

"Do not wait too long. She will find you on her own sooner or later, and my money would be on _sooner_. She will recognize your work next time she sees an acquaintance wearing it around town."

"Perhaps she will… if I stay in England."

"I hope you will. But if you find it too frightening, would you allow me the chance to leave rather than you?"

"You would do that? I know you have offered to do so twice, but… well… I have a hard time believing it."

"Of course, I would! But I do hope it does not come down to that. Please give us a chance, Elizabeth. That is all I ask."

"A chance for what?"

"A chance for anything… A chance for me to know Emma. A chance for you both to know me. Maybe even a chance for you to not fear me again."

"I am trying."

"I can see how difficult it is… that is all I ask… a chance.'

"It will… it is hard, but… I… I… I do not believe you have any _right_ to know Emma, _but she has the right to know you_ , and she has asked to do so. That is why I am here."

"I will do my best to earn that trust. You have my pledge."

"I will… I will pledge to… to _try_ to trust you. It is very difficult."

"I understand, and admire your bravery. I cannot believe I would have half as much were our positions switched. Would you like to sit?"


	13. Choices

"Darcy, we were talking of what happened after Netherfield. I would like to know. I never had the heart to ask Aunt and Uncle Gardiner, and as for the rest of my family… well, you know. I was driven by fear the first couple of years, and… well, after that Emma and I were happy, and I did not want to chance ruining that. Imagine exposing her to Lydia or Kitty or my mother!"

"I shudder at the thought."

"Yes, quite! Then, my father's abrupt transformation from indolence to cruelty shocked me; but then later I realized he was cruel to everyone in my family except me for years. Frankly, I was little better myself, but that is the past."

"They need not remain there forever."

"We shall see. I avoided my family the first year or two out of fear. My father convinced me my shame would _taint_ them, and I believed him for a while. Then, well, Emma and I were so happy and we lived well enough, so I was unwilling to disturb that. I had found a group that accepted a fallen woman, and was disinclined to tolerate my mother's effusions, my father's indifference or cruelty, my younger sister's casual silliness and ignorance… I just decided to leave well enough alone."

"I can… well, I can understand. Have you ever regretted that choice?"

"Sometimes… but not often. It is easier not to dwell on it."

* * *

"Let us continue. What happened next? After you left Netherfield."

"It will be painful."

"I would still like to know."

"Very painful."

"Nevertheless, it must be done."

… …

"When you did not come to the Netherfield ball, nobody told me why. It would be some time before I was told you had caught a flavor of Jane's illness and were to be taken to Bath to see a physician and take the waters."

"That part was at least partially true."

"It was?"

"Yes, I did have symptoms of Jane's illness when I returned from Netherfield. It seems I did in fact catch something, although I was never certain if it was from Jane. I know the early signs of being with child quite well now, and I had some of those earlier than most women, but I also had something else entirely. I always suspected Caroline Bingley poisoned me."

"Astounding. Your family would tell me nothing at the ball."

"They would not have. Remember that they all knew about the slight at that first assembly, and they also knew I thoroughly disliked you. I doubt any of them would have spoken to you at all. Everyone would have been focused entirely on Mr. Bingley."

"What a mess…"

"Do not say it."

* * *

"What happened next, Darcy?"

"The next part is shameful… very very shameful."

"Still, it must be done. I cannot ever stop fearing you unless I can come some day to trust you at least a little. I do not see any way to accomplish that if we keep secrets between us."

"I agree… I will be completely candid, though I shall not expect it from you. Basic fairness dictates it to be so."

"No, I cannot keep more secrets. I will have trouble remembering which lies you know and which you do not. I will offer candor, so long as you offer fairness."

"I will agree, but stipulate the conditions too generous."

"Perhaps, but it is my choice. Please continue."

"After the ball, I still believed our… _encounter_ was a _fearfully_ vivid dream, much to my shame. I know it was terrifying for you, but it only came to me in bits and pieces and I did not remember the beginning or the end; and the whole thing was so far out of character I could not believe it of myself. I wish I had. In fact, to this day I believe I only remember about half of what really happened, and remember several things that did not. I thought far too highly of myself back then. Emma rightly chastised me over that."

"Darcy"

"Yes, Elizabeth."

"I can see you are filled by righteous mortification about the incident."

"How could I not be."

"You should, but… well… I have my own embarrassing confession to make. I… …"

… …

"You need not say it, Elizabeth."

"Yes, I must. We must have candor if we are to survive this. I can carry secrets perfectly well on my own, or just with Emma… It is harder to do when you know the person. I will be demanding your stories, so I can do no less."

"As you say. I will never lie to you Elizabeth, nor even try to shade the truth. Say what you will."

"… well… there was a point, during that… er… encounter, where I…"

"Fear not, Elizabeth. Nothing you can possibly say shall earn my censure."

"… Well… there came a time when… when… well… when you almost came to your senses, and I _might_ have convinced you to stop… maybe… but I did not."

"Take my handkerchief."

"Thank you. I have not cried once since Emma was born, but I cannot help myself."

"You need not continue."

"Yes, I must… I feel like I need to say it, and who else could hear it. You see, it is just, that, there came a time when what you were doing felt… right. As abhorrent as the act was, and make no mistake, it was the worst moment of my life… it felt _good_ , and I _knew_ it was likely the last time in my life I would feel like that. For just a moment, I felt… passion, I guess… or more likely just my body's natural inclinations. At the time I thought that made me wanton… a fallen woman… a lightskirt perhaps. We had been taught since birth such feelings were unnatural, sinful, abhorrent, and that once we gave in to temptation, we could never be restored. I have learned better since. All of that is absolute nonsense… but… at the end… oh, this is so hard…"

… …

"Take your time, Elizabeth."

"… at the very end, I may have _encouraged_ you."

"Oh Elizabeth… and then I did not even appear the next morning to see you off, and never saw you again."

 _"Yes"_

"Then the entire party decamped after the ball, and you were sent away the very next day. Did you even know we all left?"

"Yes, I left at midday. It was obvious my abandonment was whole and complete."

"You felt ill-used _and_ rejected _and_ abandoned by me, by your father, by your sisters, by _everyone_."

 _"Yes"_

"I must…"

"No, Darcy. No apologies. Not today… or perhaps, not ever. I can see on your face that you are nearly crushed, but it had to be said. I cannot carry the burden by myself."

"No, Elizabeth. I am crushed, but it is as nothing to what you endured. I sear I will try to make it up to you somehow. I am honored that you shared it with me. I know I did not earn that privilege."

"I… I… well, after all these years I had to tell somebody. Things like that just… fester."

"I hope it helps."

"I do not know… I had mostly buried those memories."

"Perhaps bringing them back to the light will allow them to be healed."

"I do not know. So far, it has brought nothing but renewed pain and anguish."

"Perhaps, with time?"

"Perhaps."

* * *

"What happened next, Darcy?"

"I was disturbed by the nature of the dream, and much to my shame, I fought the growing attraction to you."

"I always assumed you would do so. My situation in life was decidedly beneath you, and my family, with the possible exception of Jane, was nothing to boast of. I would never have expected any offer from you. In fact, I could barely stand the sight of you before that night. The only reason I was walking with you in the garden that day was because you ambushed me and I could not think up an excuse fast enough or avoid you entirely. After that, well, it was confusing… but pray, continue before I start weeping again."

"Well, at the ball, your mother declared to all who would listen, and many who would not, that Jane had _captured_ my friend Bingley. She was to be mistress of Netherfield, and he would throw your sisters in the path of other rich men. I was disturbed by this, and could not see any signs of particular regard in your sister at all. Bingley looked more like a hunted animal than a suitor."

"Do not look so abashed, Darcy. I have seen statues that show more feelings than Jane. I imagine you took it upon yourself to save your friend from an imprudent marriage?"

"You do not seem surprised, or as censorious as I would expect."

"I am no longer in the schoolroom, Darcy. I know how the world works. Jane could not be bothered to expose her heart, and I imagine Mr. Bingley was too soft-spined to take the time to find out, when he was being hunted by my mother. I do not imagine he allowed his opinions to differ from yours or Miss Bingleys in any material way."

"He did strengthen his spine eventually. He has threatened physical damage to me if I harm you in any way… but all of that was much later. Back then, we left the day after the ball. I think he thought he was going to buy an engagement present and make settlement papers, and I was just running… running from you… but more running from myself. Then his sister took it upon herself to close up the house and return to town. She and I made a despicable campaign to convince Bingley to give up the place and your sister, and he finally went along."

"How long did it take him to get over it."

"Nearly a year."

"We can save that story for another time."

"I love it when you say that."

"Say what?"

" _Another time_ … it implies we shall not be strangers. Nothing would give me more pleasure than talking to you on any subject you choose at _another time_ "

"No, I imagine we shall not. We can never return to what you were. We can fight it all we want, but life may only go forward. I cannot make Emma un-know you."

"Would you if you could?"

… …

"I do not know. It was… easier… before. Much easier."

"I hope to resolve the ambiguity one day."

"Do not get ahead of yourself. It could just as easily resolve itself against you as for you."

"I understand. Shall we walk?"

"Yes, please."

* * *

"What happened next, Darcy?"

"Did you ever meet your cousin, Mr. Collins?"

"No, I was sick in my room most of the time that he was in the house… was he not the heir to Longbourn? I imagine that was important to me at the time, but I have not thought of the place as anything but an unpleasant memory for some time."

"Yes, he was, and is master now. You know your father is dead."

"Yes, Uncle Gardiner told me."

"You do not seem distressed."

"I am not… but back to Mr. Collins!"

"He was there specifically to wed one of the Bennet daughters. Your mother thought Jane practically engaged. I now understand you were ill, so she set Miss Mary as the sacrificial lamb."

"I imagine she went to the slaughter gladly."

"Actually… no. I never learned the story for some years, but he apparently made a quite insulting proposal, and she declined surprisingly forcefully."

"Good for her! I have regretted her loss. She always seemed a bit of a lost child."

" **HA!** …"

 _"Not lost?"_

"Not any more, at any rate. I think her rejection of Collins was the making of her. I learned of the row with her mother some time later, and it was apparently legendary. Imagine an acorn and a hammer."

"Doubly good for her!"

"She is Lady Winterbourn, now."

"Astounding! I imagine she might show up in my shop one day."

"It is inevitable, once Georgiana discovers you, and from what Georgiana tells me about your skills, you will be inundated soon with or without my sister's help."

"I am not _that_ good."

"Georgiana will dispute that… vigorously. I have questioned her closely."

"You have not told her?"

"I have told nobody, except Jane and Bingley. Your instructions did not lack clarity. My stable hand knows about the gold, but nothing else, other than the fact that I claimed you the most stubborn woman in England. He seemed unimpressed with the declaration. He will not gossip… he barely talks to the horses and me."

"I am glad. I could use some time to prepare myself."

"Do not wait long. Georgiana will find you eventually, with or without my help, and she will drag every lady of the ton there."

"I imagine worse things could happen."

"I see Emma has several friends."

"Yes, she attracts them like a lodestone. She always has."

"Yes, that she does. She is a credit to you."

"Perhaps."

" _You cannot assert she got it from me!_ "

"So, you have learned to tease?"

"A little."


	14. Rosings

"Pray, continue with your story, Sir."

"Are we to have your story, Elizabeth?"

"Not today… but I will demand yours all the same."

"Very well, I tried my hardest to forget you over the winter, with less than stellar success."

"Why is that?"

"Oh, did I forget to mention that? I eventually realized I was hopelessly in love with you, but thought to let prudence dictate my heart. I objected to your fortune, your connections, your family…"

"Oh… It sounds so silly when you say it like that."

"You and Emma seem enamored with synonyms. It was silly, senseless, stupid, foolish, ridiculous, childish, immature… even worse, all the while, you despised me… even before _that night,_ although I did not know it at the time."

"It seems a hopeless business."

"It was, and I had finally decided to quit being stupid. I planned to return to Hertfordshire after my annual Easter visit to my Aunt, Lady Catherine de Bourgh and court you properly."

"The name is vaguely familiar but I cannot place it."

"She is master of Rosings in Kent, my mother's sister so she is Emma's great-aunt. Your cousin Collins had the living."

"Ah, perhaps I heard one of my sisters mention it, but I fear I remember nothing."

"If you heard him make one sentence, you would have all you need. Simply repeat it thrice per minute for hours at a time and you would understand his conversation."

"Did he take Mary's rejection well?"

"If offering for Miss Charlotte Lucas two days later amounts to _taking it well_ , then yes he did."

"I imagine Charlotte accepted him. She always just wanted a home, and the husband that came along with it was mostly incidental."

"Yes, that seems right. She is all that keeps Longbourn solvent now. She keeps him on a tight leash."

"Good for her."

"At any rate, I was in their company when I visited Rosings at Easter…"

… …

"And?"

"… and she told me you had taken sick with Jane's illness but it did not recede, that you father had taken you to Bath for treatment, and you had died of a fever some weeks later."

"Yes, I had understood from my uncle and aunt that was the story. I can never forgive my father for it, but it is understandable. It was one way to save my sisters' reputations, and for all he knew, I really was dead, although he obviously did not see a body. One would wonder why he had not stayed if I was supposedly that ill, or left one of my sisters, but I imagine that was explained away with his legendary indolence. Was he convincing?"

"Everyone believed it… well… everyone except me, and I believe Jane knew part of the story - that it was not a fever - but not my part."

" **Truly**! What did you believe, Darcy?"

"I… well… I at long last accepted the 'dream' was probably not a dream, and I worked out that you were probably with child, and may have died because of it. The realization all came crashing into my conscience in a moment when Mrs. Collins said that you were dead."

"Oh! … I can only imagine that was… painful."

"Yes… the most painful moment of my life, although I will not pretend it was anything to what you experienced."

"I doubt it was, but still I acknowledge it. _What happened next?_ "

"I… well… the next part is even more shameful."

"You need not tell it."

"I must… You were candid, and I can be no less."

"Pray, continue."

"Well… My heart was ripped out of my chest and crushed underfoot. I actually feinted, for the first and only time in my life. I got this scar when I hit my head on a hideously ugly table my aunt had. Then I… well, I… I… I… I… I took my leave the next day, returned to London and crawled into a bottle for half a year."

" **NO!** "

"Yes, I am afraid so. Brandy, whisky, wine, port, gin… I tried them all. I even tried Laudanum again, although I made sure I was locked in a cellar at the time."

"Oh… Oh… I am so sorry."

"Why should you be? It was my own doing. Where were you at Easter in 13?"

"Five months pregnant and running for my life."

"I am so…"

"Do not say it. Let us walk."

* * *

"I must ask, Darcy. How did you escape the bottle?"

"It was Georgiana. She finally got fed up, bought thirty pounds of ice at ridiculous expense, then had a couple of 'footmen' throw me into it for an hour."

"Oh, dear."

"Then they dragged me out and gave me a pot of coffee."

"Did it help."

"It sobered me up enough to be angry and petulant. I may have smashed things, and her 'footmen' may have had to _encourage_ me to behave."

"Now you sound like Caroline Bingley."

"I was far worse than she was on her worst day."

"Oh dear."

"Georgiana eventually tired of it, and had me thrown back into the ice."

"Oh! Did that do the trick?"

"After eighteen hours, it did."

"She is tougher than I gave her credit for. I am glad she did."

"Yes, she cleaned all the liquor out of my house and made me watch while her 'footmen' burned it in the back garden. Then she threatened the direst of consequences she could think of. She said outright and in no uncertain terms, that she would not only refrain from marrying, but she would not even come out if I did not straighten up. Then she demanded to know what was wrong with me. Eventually, I started talking to her."

"Did you tell all?"

"No… not immediately… well, actually not ever. I just talked to her. It took another few days to get around to a topic that held my interest. It seems Mr. Bingley was back to being interested in your sister, but then he had run into a… well… a difficulty."

"Which was?"

"Jane's reputation was threatened, and almost certain to be ruined. Your youngest sister Lydia 'eloped' with a redcoat she met in Meryton, son of my father's steward, a Mr. Wickham… a vile rake and reprobate."

"By the way you said, 'eloped' with a peculiar emphasis, I presume you meant, 'gave up her virtue willingly without benefit of marriage'. She always was a selfish and stupid girl."

"Yes. You can imagine the scandal that would have caused had it become known."

"Yes, I imagine it would have ruined all my sisters, and probably also reopened the question of _my_ disappearance, and everyone's assumptions might have come uncomfortably close to the truth."

"Most certainly."

"And since Mr. Bingley had abandoned my sister a year prior, she had already suffered the derision of disappointed hopes, so her reputation was not that good to start with."

"Yes."

"I imagine the man must have changed his mind, since Jane and Mr. Bingley are by all accounts now married… unless Mr. Bingley is more resilient than I gave him credit for."

"He is more resilient than he was, but it was not required. Wickham decided to marry your sister…"

"What are you leaving out?"

"I _might_ just have hunted him down, made a credible threat to kill him, and then paid his debts and bought him a commission in the regulars."

"How credible?"

"I was holding him a foot off the floor by the neck at the time. Lydia was pounding my back with both fists, which had about as much effect as a fly, and was just starting on me with a broom."

"But why? Was your friend that important to you?"

" _You know why, Elizabeth_. Well, perhaps you do not, so let me speak plainly. _I did it for you_ … well, for your memory, anyway. I truly believed you dead at the time. I threatened him for you, and…"

… …

"That is touching."

"It was too little, too late, but it was done. I tried to get your sister to marry a worthier man, which would be just about any man, but she is as stubborn as a stone and would not be moved, so I finally capitulated and threw money at the problem. They seem to be reasonably happy even now. They have three children, and they get by well enough. Lydia is always begging money from Jane, and I pay their landlord off when they quit a place and insure their children do not starve, but they are both mostly content. I have settled a small sum on the daughters, and bought an apprenticeship for the son, so they will be slightly better off than you were."

"It sounds like they deserve each other."

"Yes, there is that, and it has the added benefit of removing both from the rest of society."

"That flavors of bitterness, Darcy."

"There is more of a story with Wickham, but as you say, that is for another day, and for another person to tell."

"I am not certain I want to hear it."

"I do not recommend it."

"We will say no more."


	15. Reflections

"What next, Darcy."

"You are relentless, Elizabeth."

"Quit whingeing. I understand my ignorance is my own fault, but…"

… …

"… but?"

"Well, you see, knowledge is a dangerous thing. When I cut a piece of cloth, it is done. It can never be whole again. You might sew it back together so the seam is _almost_ invisible, but it shall never be the same. Knowledge is like that. Once you let it loose, it is a fact… you can no longer remain ignorant."

"Yes, I believe all that."

"For fifteen, well sixteen years now, I have had to _decide_ how much knowledge I could stand… or how much _you_ could stand… every day. I had to decide whether to cut the cloth and try to make a new dress, but… well…"

"You need not tell me."

"Yes, I must."

… …

"Darcy, I… well. I must tell you something… For the last decade or so, I have been quite prosperous… nothing to Pemberley of course, but I do well enough. I _could_ turn down your officious and pretentious, but generous offer because I already have a perfectly suitable dowry for Emma."

"I am happy to hear that… and would it be too much to say I am proud of you, even though I have not earned the right."

… …

"Well, embarrassing, but I shall survive it."

"Yes… so, you were saying… for the last decade."

"Oh yes… Once a year, around Emma's birthday, I put on my oldest and sturdiest walking dress, took the post to Lambton, and walked the couple of miles to an overlook where I could see Pemberley."

 _"_ _ **You did?**_ _"_

"Yes… I would just stand there for a few hours, looking at the house and the grounds. I must admit it is the best situated house I have ever seen, and I saw most of the principle estates in Derbyshire at one time or another."

"May I ask the purpose for these contemplations?"

"I was… _deciding_. You see Darcy, I chided you for taking my choices away, but _I_ was taking _your_ choices away, every day. Every year, I would look at the house and _decide_ if I was to contact you, if Emma was to meet her father. I knew you had a better reputation than our experience would indicate. Every person who knew you gave you a good reference, but even with that, I could not feel safe. I knew when you came into the county and when you left. I knew your sister and your relatives. I _could_ have asked your sister about you, but not without raising too much interest. Imagine if she decided to promote a match! Every year, I _decided_ to leave the cloth whole for another year, but I wanted to make it a tangible decision, not just following habit and laziness."

"May I ask what stopped you?"

… …

"Fear, mostly, I imagine. Fear of you. Fear of myself. Fear of change. Fear of uncertainty. Fear of what would become of Emma if I acknowledged you. Fear of the _ton_ if her paternity became known. In the end, I just could not make myself be brave enough to cut the cloth… to keep walking to the house to talk to you, so I turned around and went home."

"It is understandable enough."

"It was cowardly."

"I wish you would not say that. I do not believe it was."

"It is funny. I even saw you once coming home in your carriage."

"Did you not worry about being recognized?"

"As if you would recognize a middle-aged matron in a dress little better than a farmer's wife."

"I would recognize you if you were sixty and sitting in the middle of a farmer's pigsty."

"Yes, well perhaps. You were facing the other way so it was no concern. You were riding with a soldier, maybe a Colonel or General."

"Probably my cousin, Richard."

"I even took a tour of the public areas of Pemberley once when I was sure you were on the continent just out of curiosity. Mrs. Reynolds was quite lovely."

"Astounding… I imagine you did not acknowledge the acquaintance?"

"Of course, not. She likes to sing your praises. She knew I was Mrs. Rush, but nothing more."

"Did you ever wish you had been either brave or foolhardy enough to keep going… to come to Pemberley and talk to me?"

… …

"Sometimes."

* * *

"Please continue with the story, Darcy. You crawled out of the bottle?"

"Very well. Georgiana dragged me out kicking and screaming; or more like whimpering and crying. The rest is not very interesting. I thought other men had lost loved ones and recovered to love again, so I just waited to meet the lady that could fill my life. I thought if there was one woman in the world I could love, there must be another. I worked on my character and tried to become a better man, as I doubted I was a man worthy of pleasing a woman worthy of being pleased. I forced myself to be kinder, less arrogant, more accepting, better mannered, less… well, less Darcy I imagine."

"Do not be too hard on yourself."

"I am not. I deserved all the censure you could heap on me. Even if we ignore that last night, my behavior was wretched."

"Yes, it was, but may we forgive at least that part?"

"I shall try."

"What happened next?"

"I tried to love again. I exerted myself to attend the seasons in London, and danced a few sets at every ball. I danced with the most sought-after ladies of the _ton_ , and the plainest wallflowers, although I must confess I preferred the later over the former, and eventually chose them every time."

"So, you chose the women who were _slighted by other men_."

"I always wondered if you heard that."

"I did, but you cannot apologize. Please continue."

"Well, I danced with debutants and widows, twenty to fifty, plain and beautiful, rich and obscenely rich, connected and unknown, well‑educated and ignorant. When that failed, I exerted myself to attending country assemblies like the one we should have met at, and repeated the same thing except the ladies were well‑off or less well‑off for the most part. I just kept looking for the right lady to catch my eye. In America, I even dressed in rough borrowed clothes and danced with blacksmith and farmers' daughters, or widowed tradeswomen."

"And…"

"I eventually gave up five years ago. I decided either Providence would bring the right lady to me, or I would remain a bachelor. I still dance, and still seek out the ladies that are ignored by other men, and I flatter myself that some of them have done better for having danced with me. I even know of two or more who have married men that danced with them after I did. I can take some slight comfort in that. But otherwise, I have reconciled myself to being alone. Georgiana is well married, and her second son, or my cousin's son can inherit Pemberley if it comes down to it. I have been occupying myself with traveling and making money… and… well, I shall save the other things I have been doing for another day, but I think you might like some of them. It seems to be an age of invention. I think the world will change a lot in the next fifty years, and I am trying to get ahead of it. My uncle wants me to run for Parliament."

"Will you?"

"We shall see."

* * *

"Darcy, I… we… I… um… might not be able to give you _all_ my story, but I will promise to give what I can, when I can."

"I will take what you give me, and ask for nothing more."

"Thank you. Will you come to supper on Thursday?"

"It would be my delight."

"Wait until you endure it before you are so cavalier with your approbation. We do not eat like you do."

"I would eat mud-pies with you and be satisfied."

"Are you always such a flatterer now?"

"Only with you."

"Well… We eat at six. Please dress as you are now. The moderately prosperous tradesman look suits you."

"As you instruct."

"Now, go walk with your daughter. I have much to think upon, and she seems about ready to jump out of her skin."

"I shall like that very much."


	16. Author's Note

_A/N: This 'chapter' is just an Author's Note so if you don't care about my thoughts, just move on to more Emmabee._

 _I've been chastised by several reviewers (mostly but not all anonymous guests) about my lack of forewarning about this being a story involving rape, and the most recent one also chastised me for my lack of engagement, so this is my attempt to clear that up. I will say I planned a lengthy A/N at the end to discuss the story, but doing it in the middle seemed premature._

 _So first off, should I warn people that it's potentially a Rape Romance in the description? Keep in mind that so far, you have no evidence whatsoever that it is in fact a 'Rape Romance', but I will give you the benefit of the doubt in your assumptions. I usually have an HEA or some sort, but I am_ _not_ _guaranteeing that D &E will have anything more romantic than Elizabeth refraining from pouring hot lead on his head… but the point is fair. In my original description I warned __contains sex and violence_ _. I went back a few days ago and made it even stronger (peak at chapter 1 if you want to see the new warning), but I deliberately avoided mentioning rape. The reviewers question whether that was enough fair warning about a sensitive subject. I am of two minds._

 _My first inclination is that I hate spoilers. I detest when authors write too much detail in the description, so I do not subject my readers to that. For future reference, you can assume if I say sex and violence, it will_ _not_ _be a ponies and rainbows story. I've canvassed spousal abuse, murder, hanging, infidelity and other touchy subjects before without many complaints._

 _On the other hand, I can see that most of my readers are women, and it is a much more sensitive subject to them; so the assertion that I am being insensitive is not completely crazy._

 _In the end, I don't know the right answer. The story is intended to show the complexities of human interaction. The writing style is very deliberate. The subject matter is deliberate. The mix of sort of silly and humorous with very bad things is deliberate. My stories are about the complexities of life. Nothing in life is simple, or cut and dried, and I try my best to put that complexity into my stories, and I like my stories to unfold in their own time._

 _For the record, there is never an excuse for rape, and if Elizabeth did drive a stake through his heart, it would be all good in my book. Elizabeth and Emma's assertions that Darcy has no rights at all, but that they do exactly matches my own sentiments. I will say no more until the end._

 _My suggestion is that if I mention_ _bad things_ _in the description at the top, and you are squeamish, move onto another story. If you get in the middle of a story and don't like the way it's going, close the window and move on. You can even boycott all my stories if you like. I won't mind._

 _Last word, since this is my soapbox. I read_ _and_ _pay attention to_ _all_ _reviews, signed or not, but I very rarely answer people who don't have enough conviction to make up a bogus screen name. I wouldn't be writing this at all, except the subject was also brought up by some people who_ _are_ _willing to go on the record._

 _So, I will allow you to guide me. Should I put a rape warning in the story description? Should I make my descriptions more representative in general? You can weigh in with a review or PM._

 _For now, let's have a bit more story._


	17. Fatherhood

"I wonder what it means to be a father… or to have a father, Mr. Donkey."

"What do you think, Emma?"

"Well… I imagine it means a lot of things. For many in your class, especially girls, a father is the man you get trotted out to for inspection once a week by your governess. Perhaps the man to bring out the rod if you behave badly. Perhaps the man that sends you off to seminary, hires your companion or governess, controls who and when you marry, and if he is not too terribly busy, the man who walks you down the aisle to the man he most likely chose for you, who has a big income and adequate connections."

"That seems a somewhat cynical view, Emma… Did you get it from your mother?"

" _Do not dare to criticize my mother, sir …_ no matter how subtly, implicitly or obliquely."

"Please do not take what I say as criticism. It is curiosity. Your mother likes to sketch characters, so I merely return the favor."

"I… appol… well, we are not supposed to do that are we. I will try not to jump to conclusions."

"Certainly, you have nothing to apologize for…. but let me be rightly understood, Miss Bee. I hold your mother in _the highest possible_ esteem."

"Very well, _that shall do for the present_. I will answer your question… No, I did not get that from my mother… well, not entirely anyway. I am smart, I listen, and I have been in the company of gentlewomen in unguarded moments all my life. You would be astounded what you can learn in a modiste's shop, especially when you are curious, good at hiding, and you have an intelligent mother willing to satisfy your every curiosity. I have been in the room to hear a lot of debutantes, brides and matrons talk. I speak as I find."

"A trait I hope to encourage, if I may be so bold."

"I shall allow it. Am I far off the mark?"

"Yes and no, Emma. Not all fathers are like that. Some are kind and loving, some are as indifferent as you surmise, some are practical and some are truly terrible. There is a great deal of variety, but I imagine in our class, things are quite frequently as you describe. Once a father has abrogated all responsibility to nursemaids and governesses when the children are babes, I imagine it is easy to become thoroughly disconnected."

"You thought you would slip in _'our class_ ' and I would not notice?"

"It was worth a try!"

"You are incorrigible."

"I do my best. Please, continue my lady."

"Tradesmen fathers usually spend their efforts teaching their sons their trade, and some pay a lot of attention to their daughters, while some are indifferent to them. Some look at them as just another mouth to feed, or as someone who can do some of the harder work of the house, or occasionally as the girl who is to be trained to care for them in their dotage, or to form business alliances, with little care for their wishes. I have seen all of those."

"Yes, I can admit I have seen all of those, but I have also seen loving fathers who thoroughly dote on one or more daughters."

"I have as well… I hope you do not consider me hopelessly cynical."

"Not at all. Would you like to hear more?"

"Please."

"Your grandfather Bennet was an indolent and indifferent father and master that treated most of his daughters much as you say… he barely acknowledged their existence, and I even saw him ridiculing them publicly on occasion, along with his wife. Even before your mother's… difficulties, he was not really taking care of his daughters or his estate. However, he paid special attention to your mother. It is him you have to thank for her education, and perhaps her sanity, as she was _not_ a favorite of your grandmother."

"Your opinion of my grandfather seems only marginally better than Mama's."

"I shall not give you details, but suffice it to say that she has ample reason to despise him. He placed the two of you in grave danger, and I will not tell you her story but it was terrible. I was _angered_ beyond rage by his actions when I finally learned about them… _she lived them_. They are very different things. I am trying not to prejudice you too much, but I quite despised the man."

"Yes… well, is it awful that I am happy he is dead, so I never have to speak to him?"

"I would not say it too loudly or too often if I were you, but no, it is not awful. It is perfectly reasonable."

"Was your father as I described?"

"Not to me. He was a bit aloof and unfeeling, but he did teach me to run the estate which took some time and effort, and at least in my case he was kind and attentive. His care of my sister was little different than what you described, but he died when she was very young so she does not even remember him. I have been her guardian most of her life, part brother and part father… not necessarily the best of either."

"Do you wonder my reluctance to join _your_ circle?"

"Not in the least! It is perfectly understandable, so long as you acknowledge that not all of us are cut from the same cloth, and perhaps some us are not beyond amendment, or dare I say it, instruction. I hope to be a better man."

"I imagine I shall know in a few years when you finally marry and have your own children."

"I already have my own child."

"Do not presume, Mr. Donkey. You are not out of the doghouse yet, and will likely never be."

"I will violate your mother's rules just this once and beg your pardon, but may I at least hope?"

"I… honestly do not know."

"I will accept that. Frankly, it is an improvement."

* * *

"Do you consider my view of marriage to be hopelessly cynical, Mr. Donkey?"

"Not at all… I must confess I always hoped to be the doting father type."

"You are only in your forties, Mr. Donkey. You still have time."

"Perhaps…"

"You only need allow yourself to love again, or even to just be practical. It should be easier to find another if you can let go of some of the past. You now know you did not kill my mother, and my life has turned out quite well."

"Do you miss being raised at Pemberley?"

"Not at all. I went there with Mama once, and I did not care for it."

"Interesting! Few would say that."

"Few are me, but I speak as I find."

"Perhaps, it will grow on you?"

"Not likely. Do not mistake Mama and I allowing you to know us as more than it is."

* * *

"What is your plan now, Mr. Donkey?"

"The word _plan_ implies a much stronger organization than I currently possess. My plan, such as it is, includes being nice to you and your mother, doing anything I can for your comfort, and trying to come to know you. It may also include some groveling if your mother will allow it."

"Do not count on it. She despises weakness."

"She certainly put me in my place when I tried to be protective."

"She despises officiousness as well."

"Yes, she made that clear to me. Is there anything else she despises?"

"I think she despises nearly everything about you… but…"

… …

"… but?"

"But, _she is here._ She is allowing you to come to know us. Make no mistake, sir! She is here for my benefit, not hers, and she finds the experience unbearably painful, but _she is here._ Perhaps she will soften someday."

"What may I do to help her? I do not mean selfishly help her quit despising me… but to truly help her."

"Just try to be her friend, Mr. Donkey. Every time you interact with her, try to understand what she is feeling. That is what she taught me, and I try."

"I shall do my very best, Emma."

* * *

"Emma, have you been having a nice chat with your little donkey?"

"Yes, mama. It has been most interesting."

"I believe it is time for us to go now. Emma, Darcy will come for supper on Thursday. Six o'clock, Darcy. Please dress as you are now."

"Until Thursday."

"Good day, sir."

"Good day, Mr. Donkey."

"Ladies! It has been a pleasure. "


	18. Supper

_A/N: I thank everyone for the tremendous number of very thoughtful responses to my last Author's Note. I think the consensus is that for most readers, my original warning was adequate, but for those that have SV as a trigger, it was **not** ; and for those where it is a trigger, it's a much bigger deal than for others. I was probably not sensitive enough to some of the responses. For those of you that lived through hard things, I apologize._

 _My new warning is as follows, and I removed the Romance tag so it's now Angst/Tragedy:_

 _Caution : This is a high-angst story with descriptions of Sexual Violence and its aftermath._

 _I hope that serves as a good compromise, but I would especially like to thank everyone who took the trouble to write such detailed and thoughtful responses. I really appreciate every single one of them._

 _So, who's for supper?_

 _Wade_

* * *

"Mr. Darcy, may I introduce your acquaintance to Miss Harriet Smith and her son John; Miss Julia Moore, and her daughter Rose, Miss Abigail Reese and her daughter Beatrice, Miss Martha _Little_ and her son Martin, and Miss Rebecca Jones and her half of whatever that child in her tummy is. Ladies, please meet Emma's natural father, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy. Mr. Darcy."

"Miss Smith, Miss Moore, Miss Reese, Miss Little, Miss Jones; Mr. Moore, Miss Rose, Miss Beatrice. May I say what an unparalleled delight it is to meet you. I hope I shall have the opportunity many times in future."

… …

"You handled that well, Darcy."

"You will have to put more effort into it if you want to shock me or make me misbehave, Elizabeth. I am impervious to your machinations, and even if not, I quite like these ladies. In fact, I hope to have you all to supper at my home at your earliest convenience."

… …

"Hah! Surprised you, Mama!"

"Do not be impertinent, Emma."

" _Never! _… or _Always! _… I can never keep it straight which is good and which is bad."

"Why not do both, Emma?"

"I appreciate your decisiveness and motherly leadership, Mama!"

"So, you are the famous Mr. Donkey?"

"Yes, Miss Reese… I fear I am."

"It's alright Abigail, you can giggle. Some think Mr. Donkey is not to be teased… that he is a man without fault…"

"Mr. Darcy, I could never…"

"Fear not, ladies. I have never claimed to be a man without fault, Emma. In fact, I distinctly remember your mother once teasing me with that idea back when we first knew each other in Hertfordshire. She wished to laugh at me, but one of our companions would not hear of it. I have faults enough. If I set down to enumerate all of them, we would starve to death before I got to the second page, and I cannot countenance starving ladies and children… it would be bad manners."

"Ha-ha. We cannot have that, Darcy. I imagine being a man who cannot be laughed at is no longer one of your faults. Let us sit to table."

* * *

"I confess, I did not forewarn you just so I could see your reaction, Darcy."

"Did I pass the test, Elizabeth?"

"It was not a test, but if it was, you did tolerably.'

"You will never let me live that down, will you?"

"Probably not."

"Good"

"You asked who did my sewing, Mr. Darcy. These ladies are what I have in London. I have not built the business up to the size it was in Derbyshire yet. I had one to two dozen there most of the time. I only have these and a few more who did not join us because they are at home with their husbands and children."

"I see."

"You will have to toughen up a little bit if you wish to remain in our company, Mr. Darcy. I can see you have a question in your mind. I can see it in your eyes. Ask it. We do not stand on ceremony."

"All right, Emma. Do you always find ladies in… this situation?"

"Usually, but not always. We try to welcome all who need our help. Not all become seamstresses, and fact only around a third or half. We welcome as many as we can, and try to ensure that they are well situated. Some become cooks, some become seamstresses, some go into service, or the clothing trade, or making books, or other things. There are a lot of cottage industries that can be done by a woman while keeping their children close, so we engage some of those."

"I am impressed."

"Some go back to their families. We try to find something that suits each lady's temperament. About a quarter adopt the babes out, and the rest keep them. Most get married eventually, and we try to help those with a small dowry. We help each other, and do the best we can. We try to teach all of them to improve their situation a bit… strive for just a little higher position than they might have made before."

"That is admirable."

"I think so, Mr. Donkey. My whole life has been like this, so naturally I believe it is the most natural thing in the world. We also try to teach them to live in the world… Teach them the things their parents overlooked. Everybody learns to cook, clean, light fires, make beds, haul water, do laundry, tend children, make bread and run a small household. We all, including the children such as myself, take turns dumping chamber pots, doing laundry, cooking and cleaning. We make our own soap and in general prepare ourselves for anything life throws at us."

"I admire the scheme very much, Emma."

"We have a system, Darcy. At any given time, at least a third of the ladies are dedicated to teaching. Those that wish to read are taught. Ladies with some education seek to expand it. We always find that more common women already have common skills but no education; and gentlewomen have education but little in the way of skills. We do our best to redress the balance. Each woman alternates between master and student."

"I am _very _impressed. I am honored that you invited me into your company, and cannot say strongly enough how I admire the entire scheme. I hope to learn more of the details in days and weeks to come."

"We will be happy to show you, Mr. Donkey."

"Thank you, Emma. Might you tell me how this entire operation came about?"

"Well done, Mr. Donkey. You managed to say that without offending anyone."

"Ha-ha – I have been practicing my manners for 15 years since the last time your mother saw me, Emma. I imagine I have had some small improvement."

"Apparently, you have been practicing teasing as well, Darcy."

"I do my best, ma'am."

"Then I shall answer your question. The original Mrs. Rush started and refined the system. She was a lady in very much the same situation as the rest of us. As you know, there are a hundred or a thousand stories, but they all are very much the same. Some of the ladies brought on their own ruination, some were importuned, some were just unfortunate, some actually had husbands… you do realize we have been at war for nearly my entire life, or that life is dangerous?"

"Yes, and I can see the inevitable results of that."

"Mrs. Rush… the original Mrs. Rush was taken in by an old seamstress, Mrs. Layton who was 70 of she was a day. The lady was seven months pregnant and begging at the side of the road. Some so-called _gentleman_ was yelling at the poor girl, making threats, telling her to get out of his way, so Mrs. Layton stepped in… apparently with a stick."

"I wish I could meet this Mrs. Layton. Is she still alive?"

"Sadly, no. I never met her."

"That is unfortunate."

"If you go visit my old shop you can be introduced to the stick."

"I imagine that might be a privilege or not, depending on how the introduction goes."

"Ha-ha! Between the two of them, they managed to survive… just barely. Like myself though, Mrs. Rush was well-educated and clever. She was a daughter of someone of real importance, but cast off by her family. Unfortunately, her child did not survive, but she stayed and made a life. They first made the business survivable, then somewhat profitable."

"I should like to hear more."

"Carry on with the story, Abigail."

"Me?"

"Yes, you need to learn to speak in company. Mr. Donkey here is rather severe, so if you can talk to him you can talk to anybody."

"Well… as I have been told, the business just barely scratched by until Miss Mason came."

"Yes… carry on, Abigail. You are doing well."

"Mrs. Mason was the daughter of a shop-owner. She taught the ladies a bit about business… keeping accounts and the like. That is when they started taking in more wayward ladies, and set up the principles we live by. Mrs. Rush eventually bore two children of her own after she married."

"An impressive woman… several of them, actually."

"Yes, we all are in their debt. Mrs. Rush… the original Mrs. Rush was the leader. She invented the phrase _magnitude gratitude._ She established the rules that her successors have followed. We are all to be taken in and cared for regardless of how our condition came about. Royalty would be treated the same as criminals. Our children are to be born and treated without censure or shame, at least within our circles. Mothers and children are to be educated to the best of our ability, and we are to pay back the kindness by one order of magnitude."

"One order of magnitude – so I take that to mean each of you are to help 10 others?"

"Yes, more or less – although it is not an exact science. As most things in life, some are expected to contribute more than others. For most of the ladies, if they find a good husband, raise their children well, and somehow during the course of their life produce a child who lives well in the world, and maybe even helps another woman in need, then we consider the debt well satisfied."

"That seems eminently sensible."

"In each generation, one of us is chosen and groomed to lead the next. We are responsible for the care of the flock, but otherwise it is our custom to take the excessive profits. I imagine you met the fifth Mrs. Rush when you went looking for me in Derbyshire?"

"Yes, although I did not know how the system worked at the time."

"She was my chosen successor. I only advanced the plan by a year or two, but she was ready."

"I should like to meet her again."

"Nothing stops you. She lives 20 miles from your house."

"I believe I shall."

"She would like that… bring your sister and your aunt while you are at it."

"I certainly shall."

… …

"This may seem an indelicate question, but I assume you have helped ten ladies. I see four right here, so it seems likely you met your goal long ago."

"Weeellll… I am… well… I was not satisfied with only one."

"Only one what?"

"Only one order of magnitude. I was given the greatest of gifts, and it demanded I pay back the greatest of responses. I have made the business prosper. It has nearly triple the income of the previous Mrs. Rush, so I required greater payback. I was at just over two orders of magnitude when I left."

"100 ladies?"

"107. Do not look so astonished, there are many more ladies in the situation than you would think."

"That is not astonishment, that is awe."

"Apparently, you have been practicing flattery as well as manners and teasing this past 15 years."

"Not really… I still speak as I find, Elizabeth. I have never learned the mean art of flattery or any other sort of dissembling. You would see right through me, so to attempt it would be pointless. What I meant to say is that is a _very_ impressive accomplishment. It seems… very difficult."

"I have been Mrs. Rush for ten years, Darcy. About once a month one lady joins us and one leaves. It all adds up. Many never materially contribute to our efforts. They have the child and return to their families, but we do not mind. Look hard enough around Pemberley and you will find at least six, as servants or tenant's wives."

"Again, I am impressed."

"Thank you, Mr. Darcy. Shall we eat?"

"It would be my pleasure."

"Maybe… maybe not. I fear Rose will be sitting on your lap."

"Even more of a pleasure. How old is she?"

"Eighteen Months. They came with us from Derbyshire. If you feed her enough carrots she might speak to you."

"I shall make it my mission in life."

"She is equally likely to bite you, or use your trousers as a chamber pot."

"I am not afraid of her."

* * *

"You seem to be more skilled with the young ones than I would have presumed, Mr. Donkey."

"I have given you little reason to think otherwise, Miss Moore. My sister was less than a year old when my mother died. She was six when my father died. I have been the closest thing to a father she ever had. I'm not unaccustomed to young ladies, although I still insist that I draw the line at wearing a dress for tea parties."

"Ha-ha. I guess you do have a sense of humor, Mr. Donkey."

"I try, Emma."

* * *

"Ladies, I must thank you for the excellent evening. I would hope to be in your company again soon."

"We would be honored, Mr. Darcy."

"Good night, Mr. Donkey."

"Good night, Emma. Good night ladies."

… …

"Thank you for coming, Darcy. It has been… "

"You need not define what it is been, Elizabeth. It has been my delight, and I hope… perhaps… it might be… perhaps a beginning?"

… …

"Yes, shall we toast to beginnings?"

"I would like that."

… …

"Will you walk with us on Sunday, Darcy?"

"It would be my pleasure, Elizabeth."

"If you have no objections, come at one and bring a hamper. We shall have a picnic."

"It will be my pleasure. Until Sunday, Elizabeth."

* * *

 _A/N: I obviously must again thank Babsy1221 for a concept borrowed from the excellent Havenswood?_


	19. Picnic

"Good afternoon, Ladies."

"Good day, Darcy."

"Good day, Mr. Donkey. How many people are you planning to feed with that hamper?"

"Miss Bee, in the fullness of time, when you have reached your full maturity, and obtained even more of the implacable iron‑willed determination of your mother, I will expect you to instruct me in the fine art of convincing my cook not to treat me like a schoolboy. I know of no other possible remedy to the size of her picnics."

"Ha-ha. I see the legendary Darcy humor peeking through there, Mr. Donkey."

"Legendary – perhaps, but not all legends are good."

"Do not tease the man, Emma… at least not excessively."

"Do not worry on my behalf, Elizabeth. If I may quote the five-year-old Miss Bee, _I am tougher than I look_."

"So you are tougher than a five-year-old?"

"Do not put words in my mouth. My claim was much more modest than that."

"Very well, Mr. Tough-as-shoeleather. Shall we eat? What have you brought us?"

"Hardly anything really. Young Emma is making much out of nothing. Let us look. It appears we have cold ham and chicken, mince pie, beef pie, boiled eggs, sandwiches, salmagundy, peaches, nectarines, grapes, apple pie, milk, tea, biscuits, scones, clotted cream, three types of jam, and two bottles of wine."

"I hope you do not mind if Tom joins us?"

"Of course not. I was going to suggest it. I have been very much looking forward to meeting him."

"Mr. Tom Carson, this is, as you know, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberley."

"A pleasure to meet you, sir."

"A pleasure, Mr. Carson."

"Mama, shall we spread the blanket and see if we can at least hold our own with this monstrous hamper?"

"We may try our best, Emmabee."

* * *

"Darcy, perhaps I should apologize for the surprise last Thursday. It was… _unfair_ and _ungenerous_. I claimed it was not a test, but it really was. I now think it must have been terribly uncomfortable for you, and quite a violation of propriety."

"First off, you may test me all you want Elizabeth. I am not opposed to testing and amendment. Do your worst… and if that is the worst you can do, I feel perfectly safe, since there was nothing objectionable about it."

"All right… I… think."

"Also, when you really get down to it, I do not think it was a propriety violation anyway. You are a 'Mrs.', so you can perfectly well act as chaperone. It was _highly_ unusual but not necessarily scandalous. The rules of proprietary are about half arbitrary anyway. This was no worse than sitting with your mother and your sisters. You owe me no apology."

"Now you _are_ punishing me."

" **HAH**! … And besides…"

"Yes… besides…?"

"Well, actually two things."

"Proceed at your leisure, sir."

"First off, remember that I have been away from England over four years. I have been on the continent and in the wilds of America. I am not quite as provincial as I once was. Keep in mind I told you last week that I danced with blacksmith's daughters."

"You really danced with blacksmith's daughters, Mr. Donkey?"

"I did, Emma. I will tell you about it sometime."

"Has your experience changed you, Darcy?"

"I believe so. I am _far_ more tolerant than I once was. I have… well, I have learned the price of narrow‑mindedness and intolerance. I have not had the lesson you have, and do not claim to, but I do learn."

"That is admirable."

"Oh, and the second thing…"

"Yes?"

"… the worst that might happen is I would be forced to marry you. I daresay it would not kill me."

"I… I… I…"

"You need not say anything, Elizabeth."

"You need not smirk, Mr. Donkey. Just enjoy your revenge."

"I shall quit when you do, Miss Bee."

* * *

"Mr. Donkey, were any of your friends hurt in the fire this morning?"

"Which fire is that, Miss Bee?"

"The one in Grosvenor Square, of course! Do not tell me you are so distracted you did not notice the house in the same square as yours burning?"

"Weeeell…"

"Out with it, Darcy. You are hiding something."

"I did not actually come from my townhouse this morning. I was unaware there was a fire."

"Oh… I imagine you had important business elsewhere. As I understand, it was the estate of Lord Jenkinson."

"You are correct, that is not far from my townhouse. I shall write them a note."

"Would it be prying to ask _why_ you were not in your townhouse this morning, Darcy?"

"Because… I was… in my lodgings."

"Your lodgings?"

"Yes Elizabeth, my lodgings."

"Ah, so you must have been from town. That explains it. I am curious where you were staying, Mr. Donkey?"

"Tom, you look amused. Do you have anything to say about Mr. Darcy's lodgings?"

"No ma'am."

"Darcy, you seem to be a man of mystery… off on impenetrable business, not that it is any of our concern."

"I may as well come clean."

"If you like… It was really just conversation, and we are not overly concerned… just curious."

"My lodgings are on Blandon Street."

… …

"So… … you have an enormous and comfortable townhouse less than an hour away, and you are staying in only moderately acceptable lodging a quarter-mile from my shop?"

"Yes"

… …

"Curious… May I inquire as to why?"

"Do you wish the good reason or the bad?"

"Both, I imagine."

"The good reason is that you have made it quite clear that you wish to retain your privacy, and having me popping in and out from my townhouse to this area several times per week might be noticed. Nearly everyone in my townhouse or in society believes me on my way to Pemberley via a slow route, while nearly everyone in Pemberley believes the converse. I have a trusted footman staying in the next room, and he can run messages or carry hampers as necessary."

"Well… there is nothing wrong with that. It never occurred to me, but I can see your reasoning. There is nothing amiss with a bit of disguise… but you should have asked me, or at least… well, actually, that is not right… you may stay where you choose."

"You do not look happy."

"I will survive. You said you had a bad reason."

"Well… I just… Well… I just wanted to be close. It is presumptuous, but I was afraid to ask, so I just did it."

… …

"Yes, it was presumptuous. However… well… I have agreed to give you the benefit of the doubt, so I will presume your intentions were good?"

"Yes, you may always presume that."

"I shall try. I will not censure you. I imagine Tom was smirking because he saw you, and was unconcerned. Am I correct, Tom?"

"Yes ma'am, I was aware of his presence."

"You have passed another sort of test, Darcy. Tom is _quite_ protective, but he did not feel compelled to warn me, so I imagine he has a little bit of trust in you."

"Yes ma'am, I do… within reason."

"That is all I can ask, Mr. Carson."

* * *

"Mr. Donkey, I imagine you may refrain from chastising your cook about the size of the hamper. The food seems to be mostly gone."

"Yes, I can see that Mr. Carson has taken to my protection as well as yours. He is saving me quite a lengthy chastisement."

"Happy to be of service, Mr. Darcy."

"Tom, I… would… like you to take your leisure for the rest of the day. I believe that… I believe… well… I believe we can accept Mr. Darcy's company and protection for the afternoon."

… …

"I will agree, ma'am."

"Enjoy your day, Tom. Perhaps you can save the rest of Mr. Darcy's honor by taking that last bit of pie and jam home with you."

"I would be in your debt, Mr. Carson."

"If you insist, sir."

"Good day Tom."

"Good day ladies… Mr. Darcy."

* * *

"Tom does not trust easily, Mr. Donkey. Consider yourself… privileged."

"I shall. Would you like to walk?"

"I need to talk to Mrs. Smithson over there. I will not be long. Walk with Darcy for a time, Emma."

"It would be my pleasure, presuming I can get up from this blanket."

* * *

"Mama is angry with you, Mr. Donkey."

"Over the lodging, I presume."

"Certainly."

"She does not seem angry."

"What does she seem like?"

"A bit impertinent… even a bit teasing… a bit challenging."

"I see. And tell me, what was she like back in Hertfordshire when you had most grievously insulted her?"

… …

"I see your point."

"She gets that way when she is angry. She has barely even allowed your company. You should quit pushing your luck."

"I shall apologize."

"Perhaps not, just… ask next time. She will get over it."

"I most certainly shall."

"It was not so very terrible, so do not over-fret. Mama just has a hard time letting go of an idea."

"Fair enough, but I will talk to her about it. I cannot let it fester."

"Suit yourself."


	20. Instruction

"Might we return to the subject of marriage, we began last week Mr. Donkey"

"Certainly."

"I mean more specifically, yours."

"Mine?"

"Yes, yours. I believe you can now start thinking about the rest of your life, and I believe you should wed. You should be a husband and father. _I intend to allow you to do that_."

"You will allow it! This I must hear. Go on."

"It is quite simple, really. Just find yourself a moderately young wife and in a year or two, all will be well. It would be unseemly for you to marry a woman of twenty, since she would be practically my contemporary, but a woman of eight and twenty or thirty could still give you the children you desire, but you do not admit to."

"You think I can decide such a thing… just like that?"

"Yes of course. _You can and you will._"

"What makes you so certain?"

"Because of basic fairness. _You owe it to me._"

* * *

"Did you not have a tutor to teach you not to scratch like that, Mr. Donkey?"

"That is funny. Your mother asked the same thing last week."

"What did you tell her."

"He tried… unsuccessfully apparently. I only do that when I am nervous and thinking furiously."

"Are you nervous, Mr. Donkey?"

"Of course! Are you not?"

"No sir, I am not."

"May I ask _why not_? Not everybody would tackle that subject without trepidation."

"Are you avoiding the question."

"Only momentarily. I just need to think. Can you tell me _why_ you are not nervous?"

… …

"Well, sir… Do you know my mother likes to study characters?"

"Yes, she told me that once. She said intricate characters are the most fascinating."

"That sounds like her. Perhaps they are and perhaps not, but it does not matter in this case."

"Why not?"

"Because your character is not that intricate, Mr. Donkey."

"You dispute with your mother! I am shocked."

"It happens… but in this case, I have more information than she had sixteen years ago, so I am not certain we are in dispute anyway."

"So, perhaps if my character is so simple you might enlighten me as to what it is."

"Easily done… you are basically a good man. You were raised with an excess of vanity, made one truly unforgivable offense, and are now trying to make it right, in your own blundering way. You are short tempered on occasion and do not always think things through, but are we not all that way. You chose bad ways to try to help us, but your heart was in the right place and you _are trying to help us_. You are trying your best to right your past wrongs. In the end, _you are not really so complicated._ "

* * *

"You are scratching again, Mr. Donkey."

"You think I am a good man?"

"In essentials, yes. You may not always have been… in fact, you were a bit of bounder when Mama first knew you; and you make mistakes, some of which have grave consequences, but you are trying. I have no reason to believe you a bad man, which is good as it would vex me thoroughly."

"I thank you for the sentiment, Miss Bee?"

"You need not thank me. _It was an assessment, not a compliment."_

"I appreciate it nonetheless."

"So back to my nervousness, or lack thereof."

"Yes"

"I do not believe you would harm me, or allow anyone else to do so. Mama's bull in the china shop analogy is still apropos, but I believe we should give you the benefit of the doubt. You and Tom might get in each other's way trying to protect Mama or I if we were truly threatened. You are a good man, sir."

"That is a lot of faith for a very small amount of evidence, Miss Bee."

"Is that not the essence of faith, Mr. Donkey? We all need to trust our instincts sometimes. Now, let us walk a bit. Mama will rejoin us soon."

* * *

"We were distracted, with your character assessment Emma. I am curious _why_ you think I should marry because _I owe it to you_."

"Well… I assume you must be around four and forty."

"You are not really guessing, are you?"

"No sir. I know exactly how old you are."

"Just checking."

"I presume Mama told you we are fascinated with numbers."

"She did not, but she told me some things that would leave me to believe it."

"Let me enlighten you on my thinking. At your age, you are past all of the illnesses of childhood and young adulthood that kill so many. You are no longer a very young man, so you are probably no longer quite so suicidal. You do not live in squalor, so you are not susceptible to the maladies of the poor. You do not care for the sick, so you are not very likely to catch a contagious disease. You ride hard, but you are a skilled horseman with fine animals and equipment. You no longer drink to excess. Your physical condition indicates you eat well and take care of yourself. When you travel, you do so in the best equipment. Am I correct so far?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"So, your chances of living to a ripe old age are _very good_. Seventy or even eighty is quite likely within your reach."

"Yes, I suppose so."

 _"You suppose so!_ That means you have not really thought it through. That means you have _another thirty or forty years alone _according to your present plan. Will you occupy Pemberley as a ghost house all that time… or give it to an heir early while you retreat again?"

"Most likely the latter."

"It actually does not matter. In the end, old age will come upon you sooner or later. Unless you die suddenly, the infirmities of age will be yours to endure. When that happens, you will have your choice of care from servants, your sister or your daughter. Do you truly believe both your sister _and_ your daughter will leave you to servants?"

"Now that I think about it, that seems unlikely."

" _Exactly!_ Now, I assure you sir, I have no intention of remaining unmarried, so I shall have my own home long before that. Your current plan means that sooner or later, _I_ will have _my_ ancient father, finishing out his days sitting by _my_ fire, talking to _my_ dogs, with a nearly _constant_ reminder that it was both _his mistake_ and _my existence_ that prevented him from leading the life we all should lead. _I shall not allow it, sir!_ Mark my words! _You will marry._ I will accept no other outcome. You should be talking to your own wife and your own dogs."

"Are you always this implacable."

"Yes."

"I shall take it under advisement."

"So long as advisement leads to capitulation, I am satisfied."

"I will not promise that, but… I will follow your advice if I can."

"All right. That shall do for the present. Here comes Mama."

* * *

"Mama, I am glad you have determined that Mr. Donkey's arm will do you no real harm."

"You are still a terror, Emma."

"I hope to always be."

"Elizabeth, that must be one of Emma's primary characteristics. She told me that twice the very first time I met her when she was five years old."

"I vaguely remember that day. I think I sent her for some thread or something. She was so excited to be on such an important mission all by herself. It might very well have been the first time I sent her all alone."

"She was very funny. She ran into me at a dead run, and mostly just bounced off. She could barely contain herself long enough to speak to me."

"Well, now you can see she is still a terror."

"Guilty as charged, Mama."

* * *

"Will you tell me a little bit about Mr. Carson? Emma mentioned something about the Navy."

"Well… as you might imagine, with my… particular… collection of ladies, there are a certain class of men who presume they are the fox in the henhouse. They think we might be… easy targets."

"Yes… I can name certain men who would fall into that category. It shames me that it did not occur to me earlier in our discussions."

"And why should it? You have known about us for three days, while I have known about us for sixteen years. They are very different things. You cannot think of everything, but… your instincts seem good, and I appreciate your concern."

"So, about Mr. Carson?"

"An unusual man, Mr. Carson. He was a Navy man. He came home after a year to find his wife had died and Mrs. Rush took his daughter in. He came to collect her, just in time to see one of these… vermin… trying to make a move on one of our ladies. He was… not… courting… he was… trying to take advantage."

"And I assume Mr. Carson took care of the miscreant?"

"Yes. He retired out of the Navy, but retained some useful contacts, and more than a touch of the brawler. You know of course that the Navy routinely impresses random men into their ranks?"

"Yes, although I did not think they did that as much now as they did when we were younger. It was rampant during the Napoleonic wars."

"They do not take as many, but they still take a fair number. It turns out they are not so awfully particular. Anyone Tom gets hold of ends up serving a few years on board ship."

"Astounding… I should like to hear more of that."

"If you wish to pry it out of Tom, you are welcome to try."

"I believe I shall."

"At any rate, after that, he just never left. His daughter was eventually well married, and he has taken to our protection as his mission in life. Who am I to deny him the pleasure of our good company, a fair table and the occasional beating?"

"I would suspend no pleasure of his."

* * *

"Mama, I see Harriet Jones over there. I shall visit with her for a time."

"Off you go, Emmabee."


	21. Clarity

"Elizabeth, I feel I have offended you by my taking lodgings here… may we temporarily suspend the embargo on apologies."

"Did I give that impression?"

"Emma did."

"Emma does not know everything."

"How so?"

"Keep in mind Darcy, that Emma is uncommonly intelligent, but she is still but fifteen. She has her own quirks and foibles. She thinks she knows everything there is to know about me… well, like most girls her age she thinks she knows everything about everything. However, she occasionally makes mistakes about me the same as I make mistakes about her and you and everybody else."

"So, you were not vexed?"

"Perhaps I was for just a moment… but I was not angry. It would be uncharitable after my surprise last week. I was startled more than anything. However, I cannot spend the rest of our acquaintance picking over every action. Should I complain just because you took lodging coincidentally close to my shop."

"It was not…"

"Of course not, but truly, Darcy. I am not distressed."

"I am glad… but Elizabeth?"

"Yes."

"When you _are_ vexed at me, I would beg you to just say it."

"May I explain something that will be… useful for our… may I call it a friendship?"

"I would hope so."

"In… back… well… years ago…in Hertfordshire, I was nice to you because I was young and easygoing and I wanted to protect Jane's chances with Mr. Bingley. _That_ is why I was mostly nice and polite to you. I argued with you because it was _insanely_ dull at Netherfield, and you were was just about my only entertainment. It seemed…"

"Yes"

"It seemed harmless at the time."

"Elizabeth, I am so…"

"Not now, Darcy. Just know this. _I am not that girl anymore._ I am a woman. When I am unhappy, _you will know._ I do not do ambiguity and deceit well anymore."

"I understand."

"And you sir… will you tell me when you are vexed at me?"

"I will if you ever vex me. So far, I have no examples to work from, so it is all hypothetical."

"You may have learned too much teasing from Emma."

"As Emma says, 'guilty as charged, ma'am'"

"All right… you can be amusing when you want to be."

"I very much want to be."

* * *

"What else did you talk about with Emma?"

"She says rather emphatically that I should marry."

"You should."

"So should you!"

… …

"Perhaps I will someday. I believe we have both been… I do not know the right words…. maybe… waiting to breathe all these years. I imagine Emma was _very_ persuasive?"

"Very!"

"You realize she does not let an idea go easily?"

"Yes, I can see that."

"Someday Darcy… perhaps in a year… perhaps two… we will no longer be afraid of each other. Then… well, then I imagine we will be able to move on with our lives. I have had the pleasure of motherhood, and you should as well."

"Do you think… that… that… we…?"

"I… … … cannot imagine so. Sometimes, you have gone down a road too far to come back. You must take another fork. I… well… believe we are like that. It has been just too… too… well, just too… I am struggling with friendship now, and cannot even conceive of… more."

"It is… unfortunate, but I believe you may be right."

"I am glad to have that resolved."

* * *

"Elizabeth, you do know that Emma's paternity is likely to be public and heavily gossiped about sooner or later… probably sooner."

"Yes, that has been inevitable since the day you walked into my shop. Emma and I discussed it at great length, many times in these months. We have decided our choices were to cut you off entirely, allow it to become public, eventually, or leave the country."

"And…"

"As you can see, we are here. It will be difficult… perhaps more so for you than for us, but it will not be all bad."

"In what way can it be good… the gossip I mean. You and Emma are everything good, but many… hurtful things will be said about you."

"Yes, I have understood that right from the beginning. Remember I have had many years to think on these things."

"I wish I could fix that."

"You cannot, so do not fret. It will not be all bad."

"How can it be good?"

"It will increase my custom at my shop dramatically, and my profits accordingly. I told you I have a perfectly suitable dowry for Emma, but I have only been Mrs. Rush for a decade. I am not wealthy… at least not by your standards."

"You know…"

"Do not say it. Do not even think it. You are barely out of the doghouse."

"Am I?"

"Are you what?"

"Out of the doghouse?"

… …

"You seem to be."

"I am happy. Now, about your custom. How will rumors help?"

"Oh that. It is so obvious. The chatter will bring in all the nosiest gossips. I will try to encourage them with implacable silence, while simultaneously dissuading them with high prices. In the end, they will pay nearly anything to be part of the story."

"Are you certain?"

"No… but I believe so."

"What will you do with the wealth?"

"The same as I have been doing… just more of it."

"Admirable."

"Perhaps… Emma will have to fight off fortune hunters once it is known, but you know all about that. I may… ask you to… assist."

"I will do anything you ask of me."

"I still wish to know more of you. You owe me more of a story, but I am fatigued. Perhaps we may defer it."

"By your wish."

* * *

"Darcy, I would ask a… favor…"

"Name it."

"I cannot walk with you the next fortnight. I must go to Portsmouth. I buy certain fabrics in bulk directly from the ship, which assists the business."

"A fascinating endeavor. What will you purchase?"

"I buy certain materials directly from the ship. The second Mrs. Rush was daughter of a ship's captain, importuned by the first mate. She taught her successors how to take advantage. We either buy things that are so common we need them all the time and save by buying in bulk instead of from the warehouses; or we by rarely purchased but expensive materials we can charge a premium for."

"Fascinating… I would enjoy knowing more."

"Well… um… This is your chance. I would ask you to… well… to escort me there."

" **Truly**! I will be more than happy to do so. It will be my privilege."

"I will be meeting Mrs. Rush there, and assisting her as well. If you do not object… you could also arrange wagons to deliver the material as well. Two to my shop and two to Derbyshire."

"It would be my supreme pleasure."

"Do not overdo it."

"I am not."

"Well… Emma will be with Mrs. Smithson, so it shall be just… you and I… if you are agreeable."

"It is but a hundred miles of good road? I call it a very easy distance, and I would happily take you just about anywhere you ask. That should take us two days. Will you allow me to provide accommodations?"

"I thank you… that would be appreciated. I used to take Tom because I had two men in Hertfordshire, but I only have Tom now and he needs to stay put for obvious reasons."

"Would you object to riding in a curricle, or would you prefer my coach… although, the coach might be too noticeable… I could borrow Bingley's coach or hire one?"

"If the weather is fine, I would not object to curricle. I have never been in one. I have only ridden farm wagons and post. If the weather is bad, I will hire a coach. I… am not ready to ride in the Darcy or Bingley coaches."

"Might you ever be?"

"I have no idea. In this case, you need to not look _too prosperous._ Doing so would be counterproductive to my negotiations."

"I will dress as a street urchin if it will help."

"You really do have a sense of humor hidden down there somewhere."

"I try."

* * *

"Emma, it is time to go home."

"All right, Mama."

"Darcy, shall we meet Tuesday at 9 at my shop."

"It shall be my pleasure, Elizabeth. Good day, Elizabeth… Emma."

"Good day, Mr. Donkey."

"Good day, Darcy."


	22. Curricle

_A/N: Thanks once again for all the thoughtful comments. I am totally digging them… er… I am finding them eminently suitable. Who would have thought that Emma was fallible, but you still love her, don't you? (you cannot believe the unrivaled pleasure of using a contraction in a sentence)._

 _It seems most of you have gotten used to filling in the blanks from the conversation. In my head, all the other expressions are just happening, so I naturally assume you construct something that will do the job. It certainly makes the story sparse. I will pass 40k words today, which would be 50-60k with a normal writing style, so my promises for a short story or novella turned out to be empty, but I don't hear anybody complaining._

 _We are closer to the end than the beginning. Shall we see what's happening on the way to Portsmouth?_

 _Wade_

* * *

"Good morning, Darcy. I see you chose the curricle."

"Yes, but I have a coach arranged if we have need."

"I thank you for this."

"Like thanking a child for accepting sweetmeats."

"Perhaps, but I thank you nonetheless. Shall we proceed. We still have a good fifty miles to go."

"Yes. I have arranged our lodging. I… hope I am not being presumptuous, but I sent ahead a trusted maid I have known for decades to see to your needs at the Inns."

"You need to quit trying to squeeze apologies in, or mask them in even more subtle verbiage."

"Now you are teasing again."

"I imagine so. I do not usually _need_ a maid, but I will appreciate the luxury. Emma and I assist each other most of the time."

"Is it something like you used to do with Jane?"

"She told you about that?"

"Yes… … … all of your sisters have told me… many things about you."

"Will… you repeat some of them to me someday."

"I would be happy to, but when I feel comfortable enough to emulate Emma's ceaseless browbeating, and convince you to reconnect with them, they can tell you themselves."

"That is going to be difficult."

"Harder than having the man of your worst nightmare walk into your shop?"

… …

"When you put it that way…"

"I will help you any way I can, Elizabeth. You _do_ know that, I would hope. I will do anything for you."

"For me, or for Emma."

"I do not try to sort out my emotions to that level of detail. I will do the best I can for either one or both."

"I thank you."

"Shall we be off?"

"Yes, let us."

* * *

"Elizabeth, I promised to tell you something of what I have been doing these five years, and I will, in excruciating detail if you like; but I would like to clear something up first, if you are amenable."

"I am at your disposal, Sir."

" _Why are you taking this trip with me?_ I am not complaining… in fact, I am thrilled, but I know I still make you uncomfortable, and believe it or not, it has been only a fortnight since you allowed me the privilege of being back in yours and Emma's lives. _Why this trip? Why now?"_

… …

"The answer might sound… unkind."

"I will not mind, but may I comment on that idea, Elizabeth."

"Of course!"

"On Sunday, Emma gave me her character assessment of me."

"Did you pass?"

"Yes, I did, much to my surprise. She asserted that I am _not_ one of your cherished complex characters. My character is simplicity itself. She called me a good man, raised wrong, who did many wrong things, but out of ignorance and hubris rather than malice, but is trying his best to take the true path… more or less."

"That sounds like something she would slip into a tirade of some kind to soften the blow."

"Perhaps. I asked her how she could have such faith on such a short acquaintance, and she said that sometimes you have to follow your instincts."

"When I told you she makes mistakes, that was true… but she is right much more often than wrong."

"My assessment exactly. This brings me to do the same thing."

"Same thing?"

"Character studies. I have been studying _your_ character intently for sixteen years. I have rethought every word we said to each other, every word one of us said that was overheard by the other, and every story I could get out of your sisters."

"And your conclusion."

"After years of study, I can agree with something you said earlier. Your only character flow, if it even is one, was to take your father's habit of ridiculing inconsistencies and foibles. I cannot find a single example of true uncharitable behavior in your entire history. So unless your sisters held their tongues unusually well… and keep in mind, this is Catherine and Lydia we are talking about, you just do not have anything truly bad in your nature. To borrow Emma's words, _you, Mrs. Elizabeth Bennet are a good person… the best of women in my mind._ "

"I… do not know what to say."

"Ideal words would be along the line of praising my perspicuity, and my unparalleled ability to see the truth of a person after a meer sixteen years of study."

"When you put it that way…"

"I am teasing, Elizabeth. That is the one thing I learned from you. I fear Catherine and Jane had to continue the lessons in your absence, though."

" **Jane! Teasing?** "

"All your sisters seem to have tried to remember you by acquiring some of your attributes. Jane's teasing is somewhat subtle, but it is there."

"And Lydia's?"

"Nnnnnooootttt so subtle."

" **Hah**! Well, perhaps we could woolgather for another hour, and you wll forget your question?"

"I wrote it in a note I keep in my hat. I will not forget."

"You… you… well…all right, what was the question again?"

" _Why_ are you doing this with me? We are more comfortable than we were, but two days travel each direction is…"

… …

"… a lot of time in each other's company?"

"Not necessarily. I believe two months would be better… I am settling for this. I would like more… but I can see you would prefer to work more… _slowly_."

"You are correct. You see… I am here… well… this is the uncharitable part…"

"Do not hold back, I beg you."

"I am here to _force myself to like you_."

… …

"Wait, that came out worse than I hoped."

"Is that supposed to distress me?"

"Does it not?"

"Not especially… in fact, not at all. It just makes me curious."

"Well… it is like this. You see… well… It is only a matter of time before Emma's paternity becomes well‑known. You have a powerful family, and I will have quite a bit of the beau monde gossiping about us, as well as some people trying to take advantage. I have no presence or standing in those circles, so _I need you to watch my back_. I need to _trust_ _you_ to deal with your family. I need to _depend_ _on_ _you_ to warn me of things happening in _your circles_ that will affect _Emma and I in_ _our circles_. I need… I… need… I need… well… I need a _trustworthy_ _friend_ , Darcy. And I will need him soon. We may not have months or years to resolve our friendship. That is what we are doing. _I am forcing myself to learn to trust you!_ "

"Fair enough! When are you planning to get to the uncharitable part?"

"That was it."

"If that is the worst you can do, I am sorely disappointed. I think Emma can deliver a much worse setdown than that."

"You… teasing man."

"Guil…"

"You need not copy Emma's every quirk."

"Got you laughing… you have no idea how much joy that brings me."

"You know, you are kind of handsome when you smile like that."

"You are the handsomest woman I have ever seen, smiling or not."

"I… well…"

"Just accept it, Elizabeth. If it makes you feel any better, that is not an apology or a compliment. It is just an assessment."

"I can see I may need to limit your access to Emma."

"You think I got that from her?"

"Word for word."

"Guilt… well, you know."

"I thank you… William."

" **William!** "

"Yes, _William_."

"Does that mean what I think it does?"

"It does, but…"

"Yes."

"I do not have the stamina to hold Netherfield against you, or to relive it, and suffer through endless apologies and rehashing and recriminations. I will eventually forgive you, so I have decided to just do it now and get it over with. If you want to apologize…"

"I truly do! I wish to apologize for everything from my slight at that assembly, to my unpardonable behavior in Netherfield, to _that night_ , to accosting you in your shop, to my unparalleled arrogance with the money, right up to taking lodgings last week. I have so much to say."

"That took a lot less time than expected."

"What did?"

"Your apology. It was brilliant in its brevity. I accept your apology and forgive you."

"That seems… unfair. I was only getting started. That was merely the outline."

"If it will make you feel better to drag it out you may, but it will be more convenient if I do not have to listen to it. Perhaps the horses can take up the office. Truly, it is unnecessary."

"I…"

"I know it is selfish to not allow you to say all that you feel like you need to say, but I just would rather not listen to it."

"You seem quite… efficient… in dispatching forgiveness."

"Have you any idea how many girls I have sent back to families who abandoned them and then wanted them back when it became convenient? I am not Jane… I do not see the best in everyone, but I have become adept at taking the good and discarding the bad. It has been a survival skill. I will forgive you any trespasses eventually, so now is as good a time as any."

"Well, Jane is not Jane anymore either. I must say I…"

"… yes."

"I admire you more every time I talk to you."

"Thank you… … William."

"It gives me great pleasure, my lady."

"If you truly feel theneed to get it out, and the horses will not do, I suspect we will find some pigs at the inn. They are good listeners."

* * *

"Elizabeth, I have taken to emulating Emma's stubbornness and found it effective."

"How so?"

"There is a hamper under the seat that can only feed three or four stout men. Would you care for some scones? We will stop for tea in about an hour, but there is bread and jam if you care to eat while we move."

"I… well…"

"It would not kill me to have a scone myself… just to make you feel comfortable about having one, mind you."

"You are incorrigible."


	23. Scones

"Darcy, it is time for you to finally come clean and tell me something of what you been doing these past years. Preferably, things that do _not_ involve ladies, sisters, dancing, berating yourself, drinking, laudunum or the like. I imagine Pemberley keeps you quite occupied, though you have been away several years, which seems like it would be difficult. How does it operate with you gone so long. Is it a ghost house? Did you leave someone else in charge?"

"Those are a lot of questions in one breath. Where shall I start?"

"Anywhere you like. We have some time."

"Well, Elizabeth… That first day we went walking in the park, I promised you some more of my story, and you promised me more of yours."

"That day seems so long ago, but it has been but a month."

"Yes, everything involving our… relationship… seems to go by in a flash, or crawl by an inch at a time, or both at the same time. It is like a dream where you jump from point to point to point, but there may be moments or years between."

"Yes, I feel that, but we _are_ becoming more… comfortable?"

"I certainly am, and I would hope that you are or… eventually will be."

"I am here, spending four days in a carriabe with you. I would not have predicted that a fortnight ago… or frankly, even on Sunday when you brought that picnic."

"What changed your mind?"

"You and Tom… mostly. I have learned to trust you a bit, and I trust Tom implicitly. I have witnessed one side of the world's ugliness, and Tom has seen another side. Between us, I think our judgment is quite solid. His ready acceptance of you, and your reciprocation went a long way."

"I am in his debt."

"Yes, you are… but fear not, another hamper or two and you will be even."

"What if the hamper comes with a cook?"

"You would not!"

"We shall see."

"You are… I can see that I must quit chastising you about your vocabulary. I cannot come up with the word."

"How about hungry? Are we going to get out those scones or not?"

* * *

"I will tell you what I have been doing these years Elizabeth, if you will tell me just _one thing_ that you have been doing that I do not already know. It is the cost of my transportation."

"Well…"

… …

"I do not know if this is different from what you know or expect, but aside from raising Emma running the shop, and taking care of my flock – I have been delivering babies."

"Truly!"

"Truly. I learned all the skills of a midwife years ago. It is a tradition. All Mrs. Rushes learn the skill, because the midwife is not always available. We naturally wish to support our community, so our tradition is that we always try to leave the local midwives to their trade, and pay them for each delivery even if they cannot attend; but we step in when necessary, inside and outside our shop."

"Astounding."

"Not really. Women have been helping each other have babies forever. To paraphrase something you said to Sir William, _'Every savage can have babies.'_ "

"You… you… well…"

" **Ha**! Tongue tied you."

"Apparently."

"I am quite proud that I have delivered 12 live births in the eight or so years… and…"

… …

"Elizabeth?"

"And… one dead one… and another that died within the week."

"I… I…"

"Do not distress yourself, William. It is painful, but it happens. One baby in ten does not survive the first year, and one in twenty do not survive the first week. Most midwives' rates are about the same as ours. Most doctors are worse."

"Have… have… have any of the mothers died?"

"Thankfully, no. Having babies is a risky business. As far as I have been able to learn, around one birth out of 100 results in the mother's death, but we have been spared that at least."

"Interesting. How do you know these things? Emma, as part of her tirade last Sunday, told me you were both fascinated with numbers. Where do these come from?"

"There are learned men with time on their hands and a desire to know, so they make studies. Quite a few of my ladies have been reunited with their families. Their fathers eventually relented, or their other sisters married and the scandal was less important, or another scandal took precedence, or the baby was fostered out and they could pretend it did not happen. Sometimes the families eventually feel guilty and help pay for our upkeep."

"I should hope all of them would."

"You would hope in vain. At any rate, I managed to learn some things from those that would talk to me, and of course, Mr. Horse is relentless if I ask him a question."

"He is that."

"I have always been curious, and wanted to be certain we were doing our best. Emma and I are both fascinated by numbers."

"Yes, she told me that."

"I would feel terrible if a woman was worse off with us than with a family. It is hard to know in an ignorant vacuum. I have also been keeping careful track of every baby born near Kympton in the last decade, and assume they are as representative as anybody."

"Astounding."

"Astounding that a woman can be somewhat clever?"

"Not at all. I always knew you were clever… more than clever. The astounding part is you did _so much_. Any part of the whole is unsurprising, the sum total is really something. I am exceedingly impressed."

"You have more time than you think once you have a thriving business and eschew idle pursuits."

"I have found that to be true."

"You would be astounded how much time most gentlewomen spend in pointless and idle noise."

"Yes, I am aware. You would b astounded how much time gentlemen spend on cards, shooting and other idle pursuits."


	24. Purpose

"I have done my part, William. Now it is your turn. What were your non‑idle pursuits? You promised me."

" _Slavery_."

"Excuse me?"

"Slavery."

… …

"Had I spent a fortnight listing all the words I thought might come from your mouth, that would not have been on it."

"I imagine not. You see, once I gave up on wife and family… and do not start on me. I have Emma working me to the bone as it is."

"I will… _take it under advisement."_

"Shall I continue?"

"Please do."

"Where was I… oh, yes. Once I… well, I stumbled on it accidentally, but it seemed obvious once it became clear. _I lacked purpose_ _._ "

"Taking care of the livelihoods of hundreds was not purpose enough?"

"Not really. I was making more money than ever, but I was just maintaining what my ancestors built. Every difficulty and decision was something I had done before, and my father before me, and his father before him. It was _worthwhile_ , and it was _important,_ but it was… well… um… it was _not_ _enough_."

"Being one of the richest men in England was _not enough?_ "

"I am afraid not. A very wise woman once told me that you cannot eat gold."

"Touché, sir. Maybe you are the terror. So what did you do and how did you get started."

"You know of course that the landed gentry look down on people _in trade_ even though all of us are in trade at least indirectly, all of the time. The crops we grow are traded on the markets and prices go up and down based on market conditions. England spent a decade-long war with Napoleon, mostly because the tyrant was trying to block our trade; which of course drove the price of grain up and made even more money for the gentry. Trade is really the lifeblood of England, and looking down on tradesmen is just silly. Every gentleman of any sense at all does not depend on rents… they have investments."

"I have always thought that."

"Well, things are changing. Like it or not, I believe that in Emma's lifetime, trade may rule the world. The gentry does not have any idea what is coming. The French had one way for the upper classes to learn their folly. We will eventually have our own reckoning."

"That sounds… right… perhaps. I never really thought about it very much, but I imagine I should. My income all comes from the wealthy. But you seem to be diverting from the topic at hand."

"Not as much as you might think. You see, "I did not understand the relationship either at the time, but I then decided to _truly_ understand _all_ my investments at a deeper level, and increase them. At first, I did it just because it was interesting, and applying focus to them increased my profits, so I continued to dedicate more time, and then I applied the same effort to the rest of my family."

"And…"

"Well… I stumbled on my purpose quite accidentally, but the start is a bit of a funny story if you are of a mind to hear it."

"I am all ears, sir. Do you know I have never heard you tell a funny story in all these years? I thought you entirely devoid of humor in Hertfordshire."

"Elizabeth, I…"

"You already apologized, William."

"Hardly!"

"Too bad. It will have to do. Tell me your funny story… after you eat this scone. The jam is to die for."

"I am glad you approve. I have…"

"More officiousness?"

"Perhaps. I may have had my most trusted footman bring a couple dozen to your flock in your absence."

"They will survive the ordeal… and sooner or later, they will not be secret anymore… but we digress. Back to your story, impertinent whelp."

* * *

"Well, it started with my stubborn Aunt Catherine. She spent a good decade trying to browbeat me into marrying my cousin Anne."

"This is the aunt that gave the living to my cousin, who married Charlotte Lucas?"

"Yes, the very one. Take your mother, give her a title, make her _very_ rich and controlling, apply her admittedly gaudy taste to an entire estate, make her desire her daughter to marry me above all else in the world, and you will thoroughly understand my aunt."

"Not so very difficult when you put it that way. She did not oppose chaining her daughter to a drunkard?"

"No, her ideas tended to be immutable."

"She must not be very convincing."

"She is not… just stubborn. At any rate, all this time, Anne was a bit of a prisoner. She was sickly as a child and developed the habit of staying home, and eventually she just let her mother browbeat her into doing just about nothing. She could have left anytime, but had yet to grow up at five and twenty."

"It sounds awful."

"Perhaps it was. At the time, it was hard to drag anything out of her, and I could not get too close because there was a credible threat of my aunt engineering a compromise."

"It sounds like a hopeless situation."

"That is what most of the family thought. Then one day, Anne said, according to most reports the most singular thing. I hope one day you can meet her and have her recount the story. It is funnier when she tells it."

"We shall make do for the present. What did she say?"

"She told her mother, ' _Mama… I am to go to Pemberley to wed Darcy. He has proposed and I have accepted. The first banns have been called and I am to marry in two weeks' time. You are to stay here. Darcy does not want you interfering in the wedding. Those are his terms.'"_

"She banned her own mother from her wedding."

"You have to know my aunt to understand."

"I shall forego the pleasure, sir."

"Unlikely… she will be one of the ones you are worried about when Emma's paternity becomes known. She cannot help herself. She will almost certainly accost you."

"I will either sick Emma on her, or have Tom throw her out bodily."

"The latter seems more generous."

"You are funny. But let us continue."

"Well, since she said the key words _Darcy_ and _Wedding_ in the same breath, my aunt was satisfied and sent her on her way to Pemberley."

"I do not see a ring on your finger, William. Is your wedding a part of your history you neglected to mention? It would seem a substantial oversight."

"Well, you see… Anne was _accurate_ , but she was not _comprehensive_. What she _neglected_ to mention is that she was marrying _Andrew Darcy_ , a distant cousin recently returned from America."

" **NO!** "

"Yes, I am afraid so. I stood up with him. It was most entertaining."

"May I assume her mother was… displeased?"

"You have no idea."

"I do remember my mother, sir."

"Maybe you do have an idea then. If not, then reacquaint yourself with Mary and let her describe her rejection of Collins. It was… unpleasant."

"For some pleasures sir, a little goes a long way. I will be satisfied with your story… or I will if you ever actually get to it. Here – have another scone."

"You do realize driving a curricle requires some skill, and eating at the same time is not recommended."

"Do not be a whinger. Give me the reins if you feel it is beyond you."

"You have handled a team before?"

"No, but you do it so how hard can it be."

"Ha-ha-ha… I will teach you, but not today on this busy road."

"I will hold you to it. Let us get back to your story."

* * *

"My aunt was quite put out by the entire affair. My uncle, her brother, the Earl of Matlock… we discussed him before… well, he suggested I go appease her by doing some busy‑work of some kind. I went once a year to review her ledgers, so I decided to go and investigate her accounts in great depth, as I had started doing with my own."

"And?"

"Much to my shock, I accidentally stumbled on the fact that she owned a slave ship."

" **NO!** "

"Yes. It was part of what is called _triangle trading._ They carriied slaves from Africa to the Carribbean or America, then carried cash crops like cotton or manufactured goods from New England to Europe, then European goods to Africa to start all over."

"I had no idea."

"Most people do not. I certainly did not at the time."

"And when you discovered this?"

"My aunt lost her temper… I mean well and truly lost it. Slave trading had been made a felony the same year we knew each other in Hertfordshire, so it was an outright criminal act. The captain had been engaged for years and lied about the business and nobody, including me ever caught it."

"What did she do?"

"The ship happened to be on its way to England, so she waited until it was unloaded, had the captain arrested and tried, then had some of her men take the ship out into the ocean and burn it."

" **She did not!** "

"She did. She made certain everyone saw it. It was quite a story, filling the newspapers for momths."

"I am… impressed… and mortified. I think I actually may like her."

"Yes… well… It got me talking to my uncle, and it turned out his father had been a major force behind the ban. The legislature in Upper Canada banned slaverfy in 1793, the same year you were born."

"I should not be surprised you know when you were born, I imagine."

"I… well… for fourteen years I have gone into the wilderness every year on your birthday and spent the day remembering you."

"I… do not know what to say."

"You need say nothing."

"Shall we continue."

"Yes. Well, slave trading was banned in 1807 and made a felony in 1811 when we were in Hertfordshire. It only banned trading though… not slavery itself, and in fact there was a slave revolution in the Carribbean a few years before that and the british army re‑instituted slavery in the areas they reconquered."

"That seems… inconsistent. Hardly worth fighting and dying for if you are a soldier."

"It was. I decided I wanted to try to do something to change the world… even if just a little bit. _I needed a purpose._ So I spent the next five years divesting all the Darcy, Matlock and de Bourgh investiments of all direct involvement with slavery. You would be astounded how many fingers it puts throughout the business world."

"Not as much as you might think. I did my own thing for the world, but I quite aware that my undergarments are almost certainly made from cotton picked by slaves."

"Does it bother you?"

"It does, but I can only do so much. I try to minimize it, but that is not a fight I can have much effect on."

"It is all you can do. I found I could do more, so that is what I have been doing these years."

"What specifically did you do?"

"I spent a lot of time in America. I think you might like it there. That is the biggest source of slave goods for England, so I worked there. I patiently divested all my family's businesses from the trade, and moved the investments to newer industries, mostly in the North. Then I invested some substantial money in abolitionist groups… I tried to loan them my prestige as well, but it turns out my prestige is not worth that mcch in America. It was humbling, but useful. I believe it was part of my transformation to a man worthy of pleasing someone worthy of being pleased."

"Was it satisfying?"

"It was and it was not. It filled an emptiness in my soul. It gave me a sense of doing the right thing. It was worthwhile. We are both alike in one way. The world will not be completely changed, but it will be improved through our efforts. We both have something to be proud of."

"How was it _not_ satisfying?"

"It turned out that despite investing quite heavily in the abolition movement here and abroad, most of my new investments were in newer and improved industries. You know that there is a revolution going on in manufacturing?"

"Yes, some of my girls have gone on to work in the mills. It is good and bad, but for the most part, at least the mill owners could care less what a woman's background is, so long as she can do the work."

"Well, I invested in the things that will be important in fifty years, and it turns out they were more profitable than our old investments. No matter what I do, Ijust keep making more money."

"Oh, poor baby! I hope you can endure it."


	25. Portsmouth

"Thank you, William, this luncheon looks lovely."

"It is my pleasure, Elizabeth."

"Were you tempted to get a private room? Would that be your normal habit?"

"It would have been before. Since my time in America, I think I have let a tiny bit of Bingley or Richard rub off on me. Now I prefer to see life happening. I like to leave the cocoon occasionally."

"And a very pretty butterfly you make."

"Do not dish out words like that if you cannot take them."

"I… well, I imagine I can survive the occasional compliment. I am a matron now, but we all still like to remember the beauty we once were, such as it was."

"May I ask an untoward question?"

"Have you ever paused before?"

"Not really."

"Do not get timid now, little butterfly."

" **HA**!. Well, here is my question. Where did the sensible Elizabeth Bennet go? She was here just a moment ago?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean all this talk of matronliness is a bit nonsensical. I would expect it from Lydia, but not you."

"Still not making any sense, Darcy."

"William"

"Pardon?"

"You have established the precedent… I quite enjoy being called William."

"… … All right. Calling you 'Darcy' is habit, I imagine."

"A habit of less than a month?"

"May as well be a decade for the effect it has on us."

"Yes, there is that."

"I have decided to trust you. I need new habits."

"I am not complaining. May I ask an odd question?"

"Do you always preface odd questions with odd questions asking permission to ask more odd questions?"

"You will not deter me with a circular query."

"I lost track. Ask your question."

" _Why_ did you pick William instead of Fitzwilliam? You do not do things accidentally."

… …

"You noticed."

"I did."

"I… um… I just decided to be in for a penny in for a pound. Fitzwilliam always sounded… odd to me, and… well… this is embarrassing."

"I would not have it so."

"We have already canvassed the subject of reticence during embarrassment."

"Yes."

"Sometimes in the last years… well, sometimes I tried to picture… well… what would happen if I continued on to Pemberley. How would we… get… along. I always pictured a contentious relationship, but thought that eventually I might work my way up to using your given name once a year. It was always Fitzwilliam. I… I… well, I cannot say that name without remembering those years, and I thought I would rather remember your sister than my struggles."

"I am happy you did that. Two of the three most important women in my life use the name. It makes me happy."

"Do not get too comfortable."

"I shall not… I know the limits of our relationship, Elizabeth."

"Let us eat. Wine?"

"Thank you, yes."

* * *

"Elizabeth, may we return to your status as 'matron'?"

"If we must."

"There are two salient points I wish to make. First, contrary to my own stupid remarks, in Hertfordshire, you were at the time, and still are, by far the handsomest woman I have ever seen."

"Absence makes the heart grow fonder, William. I believe I was handsomer than you or my mother gave me credit for, but no more."

"Let me correct you, because it pains me that you let your pernicious mother poison your opinion of yourself. I could barely pay any attention to Jane when you were in the room, once I really looked at you."

"To be fair, when Jane, you and I were in the room, you could not even _see_ Jane with Mr. Bingley hovering over here. I am surprised you could recognize her."

"Well, there is that."

"Nevertheless, I can take a compliment, so I thank you for that, William."

"Now my second point. You are more beautiful now than you have ever been… I know… I know… I know… you do not want words that sound like a suitor's, so in the words of the great philosopher, Emma Bennet – that is an _assessment_ , not a _compliment_."

"I am 36 years old, William. I am…"

"You are beautiful, Elizabeth. If I do not tell you, who will? I am not flattering you or trying to ingratiate myself. I believe you know I have very little ability to fool you. I am just telling you what my eyes see."

"Your eyes may not be very accurate."

"I am your friend, Elizabeth… but _I am a man_. I have eyes, and they are trustworthy."

"Shall we eat, or do you have any more embarrassment to dish out?"

"You always used to do that? I am happy to see it return."

"Do what?"

"Tease your way out of uncomfortable situations. I wished I had taken lessons back then."

"You seem to have learned anyway."

"I speak as I find."

"Why say such things to me, William? What is your objective?"

"My objective is to be _honest_ , Elizabeth. Honest with you and Emma at least. You wish to trust me. You cannot do that if I spend my days telling little lies, even by omission; or even letting little lies slip by. I have a large deficit of honesty to make up."

"I still do not see how a compliment advances that cause."

"Well… as long as we are being honest…"

"Please do."

"Sometimes I just cannot help myself."

"Oh!"

* * *

"Welcome to Portsmouth Mr. Lamb… Mrs. Bull. Your rooms are right this way. Your maid is in your room, Mrs. Bull."

… …

" _You did not_!"

"Did not _what?_ "

" _Aaaarrrggghhh_! I am definitely limiting your access to Emma in future."

"You _did_ want to be discreet?"

"Yes… but why am I not the lamb?"

"Elizabeth Bennet – a lamb? **HAH!** "

"You… you… you…"

"I had a dictionary left in your room, Mrs. Bull. I shall expect a suitable word at supper."

* * *

"What did you learn from your foray into fixing the world, William?"

"I could ask you the same thing."

"And yet, I beat you to the question.'

"You need… well, I believe you need patience, and just the right amount of hubris."

"How so?"

"Changing the world is the work of generations. My grandfather planted some wonderful chestnut trees in front of our house. He never expected to see the full effect he had in his mind, but was satisfied it would eventually be there for his children and grandchildren. We have to be able to do that… look at our changes, and know we are making some difference, but we cannot expect to win some battles in our lifetime. You need enough hubris to think you can push the wheel a little bit in the right direction, but not enough to think you can move it all the way to the end."

"I am not sur I am changing the world at all, except for my flock."

"But you are! How much censure did you receive in Derbyshire over your flock?"

"Some… gradually less as time went by. I imagine it was more difficult for my predecessors."

"Let me ask this? Did Georgiana know about them?"

"Maybe"

"Lady Matlock?"

"Definitely"

"Lady Clara?"

"Absolutely not!"

"So you see. You are not _completely_ changing society as a whole; but you _are changing_ pieces of it slowly. I can guarantee you the Aunt Matlock of my youth would not have put up with it."

"Why not? She seems very fair?"

"I suspect you and your predecessor made her that way… you did not find her that in the first place."

"I cannot dispute that. The most recent Mrs. Rush died a few years ago, so I cannot ask her."

"I wish I could talk to her."

"I am afraid, I am the best you can do, but I could find people who knew her if I ask around; and of course I knew her very well."

"I would like that."

"Shall we tuck in… those scones are a distant memory."

"Let us."

* * *

" **Elizabeth**! It is so so so so so good to see you."

"You as well, **Madeline**. Is all well?"

"All very well, thank you. Marsha, Margaret and Annabel have delivered. All healthy and happy."

"Excellent news. I will be sure to tell Emma. I believe we can begin regular correspondence now. You can see here that all my running and hiding was for naught."

"Are you well, Elizabeth? Are you safe? Content?"

"Yes, to all of those. I will tell you more later."

"How is Emma?"

"A fireball as always. How is Nathaniel? Does he still want to marry Emma?"

"He is five years old, Elizabeth. It is a bit early."

"That is not an answer."

"Ha-ha. Yes, he does, but he wants to be a pirate and a soldier and a sailor as well."

"And why can he not be all?"

"He has started his letters. Mr. Horse cannot wait to get his hands on the poor boy."

"Good for him. Mr. Horse is well?"

"Yes… very well. I think he died last week, but he still came to open the shop on time."

"Ha! William said the very same thing."

* * *

"Do not run off, William. Seeing two old friends hugging each other will not harm you."

"I know… I just wanted to give you some privacy."

"We will have plenty, once I put you to work."

"Your servant, ma'am.'

"You… you… you… I give up."

"Either introduce me or send me to work, Elizabeth."

"Naturally. Madeline Rush, may I present my particular friend, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy."

"It is nice to see you again, Mr. Darcy."

"A pleasure, Mrs. Rush. I apologize I have not brought my sister or aunt by your shop as I promised."

"I am just happy to see you standing next to Elizabeth, apparently with most of your man parts intact."

"So you know her temper?"

"You have no idea, sir."

"Maddie, well…"

"Is he _the one_ , Elizabeth?"

… …

"He is."

"He seems a good enough man… now. He looked a bit petulant and angry last time I saw him."

"I am right here, ladies."

"He was, but you are correct. Emma approves of him."

"Good enough for me. A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Darcy."

"Mrs. Rush, do you know Mrs. Reynolds?"

"I do."

"I have recently sent her instructions that she is to look in on you from time to time, and she is to be available to provide you and your ladies any service you need. I would hope you will take advantage of it."

"That is generous, Mr. Darcy."

"Not really… please, I would consider it an honor."

"Very well, there are a few things we could use."

"I have my most trusted carter coming to take your cloth to Kympton. Consider him at your disposal."

"Is he married?"

"Not yet."

"Oh you… you… you… Is he always like this, Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Maddie… I fear he is. Come along. Mr. Crow has arranged lodgings for us, and a maid for you."

"A maid… what was he thinking?"

"It is easiest to just go along."

* * *

"William, why do we have four wagons of cloth when I bought only two?"

"I may have won two in a card game while you were catching up with Mrs. Rush."

"Or you may be lying through your teeth."

"That is also possible."

"I might also mention that when I asked you to arrange wagons, I meant to _hire_ them, not bring them from Pemberley."

"What is wrong with my wagons? They are as good as any? I shall not have you disparaging my wagons, Elizabeth. I am insulted."

"Do not be impertinent."

"Just give up, Elizabeth. In a bit of a reversal, I have inherited Emma's stubbornness."

"Ooohhh! I give up."

"Probably for the best."

"I do not suppose you thought about where we would put all the extra materials. We do not have that much space… never mind… and quit smirking."

"I would never suspend any pleasure of yours."

* * *

"Goodbye, Maddie. Will I see you next year?"

"We shall see. You know I must start looking for my successor just like you did. I might send her next year."

"Be well, my friend."

* * *

"Mama. Mr. Donkey. Welcome back."

"It is good to be home, Emma."

"It is good to see you, Miss Bee."

"I brought you some presents, Emma."

"Very nice. You will stay for supper, Mr. Donkey."

"I will, but I must take care of some correspondence straightaway, so I will return to Darcy house and come back in a few hours."

"Thank you for taking me, William. I appreciate it greatly."

" **William?** "

"Yes, Emma. William."

"Wonderful."

"Do not get too excited."

"I shall hold my exuberance in check, Mama. I shall see you later, Mr. Donkey."

"Good afternoon Elizabeth… Emma."

"Good afternoon, sir."


	26. Customers

_A/N: Getting close to the end. I think there are about 2-3 chapters left. This one is longer than most. I would like to thank you all for the reviews. I enjoy them all tremendously, even the negative ones. Keep them coming. Wade_

* * *

"Mama, will he be back for dinner on Monday?"

"Yes, Little One, I got a note this morning. He might even be back for our Sunday walk. The fire turned out not to be as bad as we feared, but he is taking the time to work with his cousin to get the tenant cottages rebuilt properly."

"He never told me how he took care of Pemberley while he was away. Did he tell you?"

"Yes, his cousin Andrew has been master there for the last four years. You remember he married Anne de Bourgh?"

"Yes, he mentioned that… the story was hilarious."

"Yes, it was. We will eventually meet them, I suppose."

"I am in no hurry. I imagine once it is done we will be happy though."

"I suppose. At any rate, your father's cousin and wife are to inherit Rosings, but since Lady Catherine is still hale and hearty, there is no hurry. Your father decided to use Pemberley as a training ground. They have been masters at Pemberley, backed up by the Earl and his cousin General Fitzwilliam. They plan to move to Rosings in the next year, and William returns to control of Pemberley."

"Interesting… I miss his company at our dinner table and the park."

"Yes… he has managed to worm his way into our lives in just three months, has he not."

"He has. I will be happy to see him on Sunday."

"So will I."

"It is time for me to go, Mama. I am meeting Harriet. I will be back in a few hours."

"All right. Have a good time Emmabee."

* * *

"Mrs. Bennet, you have a customer. She is a lady I have not seen before. She is dressed very fine and…"

"Yes, Julia?"

"I would swear she is wearing a dress you embroidered. It is your distinct style."

"Curious… perhaps one of my Derbyshire customers. It was inevitable, I suppose. She will be surprised to find me here, I imagine."

"She said she has two more friends coming in an hour, but she would like some time with you to go over patterns first."

"All right. Rose just fell asleep on the chair over there. You can leave her be. She will not bother anybody."

"Are you certain?"

"You know me Julia. I am not intimidated by a baby, and any lady who is can take her business elsewhere."

"Yes, ma'am."

"I shall go see if I can fleece this lady."

"I wish you would not tease like that."

"Ha-ha… Perhaps I meant sell her something made of wool."

"I give up."

* * *

"Good afternoon, how may I assist you?"

" _Mrs. Rush!_ ** MRS. RUSH! Is that you!**"

 _"Mrs. Samson!"_

"Oh, it is so wonderful to see you. I heard you left Derbyshire suddenly and was so worried that you may have been ill, and now I find you here in a new shop right in town. It is so wonderful to see you… I have missed our conversations. Oh, this is wonderful… this is… this…"

"Mrs. Rush, are you well? What is wrong? You look very ill. _Please, let me call your maid. Is there nothing you could take to give you present relief? A glass of wine; shall I get you one? You are very ill._ "

"No, Mrs. Samson. I am quite well… I was just… startled."

"How so, Mrs. Rush?"

"Please, Mrs. Samson... well…"

"How may I help?"

"Mrs. Samson, I have something I need to tell you. I have been putting it off for… months… well, maybe longer… but… well… I am not making any sense, am I?"

"Do not distress yourself, Mrs. Rush. My brother Fitzwilliam very rarely makes sense, so I am used to it. How may I help you?"

"I… I understand you have some friends coming. How long until they arrive?"

"A bit over an hour."

"That… should… be… long enough. Would you have tea with me? I have some already prepared in my parlor."

"It would be my pleasure."

"Come with me while I gather my thoughts, Mrs. Samson. I have much to tell."

* * *

"Oh, what a lovely child. Is she yours, Mrs. Rush."

"No, I am just keeping her company while she sleeps. I can take her back to her mother."

"Unless you plan on making a lot of noise, I would just let her sleep. I am a mother… she cannot disturb me. What is her name?"

"Rose. Her mother works for me."

"I am not bothered by children, Mrs. Rush. In fact, I would hope to meet with your Emma before I go."

"She is visiting a friend, but I am certain you will have a chance to reacquaint yourself with her very soon."

"That would be wonderful."

"Here you go. Milk and two sugars if I remember correctly?"

"Yes, thank you."

* * *

"Mrs. Samson… I have a need to tell you some things, and you will find them shocking. Please prepare yourself."

"You will not shock me by revealing your name is not Mrs. Rush. Everybody knows that… well, except for the men of course."

"That is part of it. You see… well… the difficulty is with… my real name is… a name you will know…"

"This must be difficult. How may I help you?"

"Well…"

" _Mama! I am back_ **.** Harriet had to go with her mother."

"Is that Emma? **Emma Bee, is that you?** It has been years. Please come back and let me look at you? … … …Oh, that was indecorous was it not? I am sorry, but this has been such an unusual conversation I forgot propriety entirely. Please forgive me."

"Do not worry, Mrs. Samson. We run a nosier household than you are accustomed to. But, _please prepare yourself_. That shock I mentioned will be bigger and more abrupt than I planned. Please prepare yourself…"

" **Emma** , we are back here in the parlor."

"Mama!"

"Emma, this is Mrs. Samson… Mrs. Swan."

" **OH**!"

"Emma… Mrs. Samson… I apologize. This was very badly done. Please sit down. You both look ready to faint."

"You… you… Emma… you…"

"Let me just get it out. Mrs. _Georgiana Samson née Darcy_ , please allow me to _properly_ introduce you to Miss _Emma Bennet_ … your niece."

"But… but… but… **My niece**!"

"Yes, she looks just like your mother. William showed me a portrait."

" _William?_ "

"Yes, we have become… reacquainted in the past six months."

"So that means… Emma Bennet? Emma Bennet? Emma Bennet? That means… **_You are Elizabeth Bennet_**!"

"I am."

"That means… that… that… well…"

"I know it is a shock, Mrs. Samson. I had planned to introduce the subject with more grace… but I have been putting it off for a long time."

"Understandable enough. I would put it off forever if I were you. That must have been difficult."

"I thank you… you are not angry?"

"How could I be angry? I have a niece and a… a… sister?"

"Just a niece."

"I see?"

"William and I are friends… and that is… an improvement over… our past relationship."

"Do you know where he is?"

"Pemberley. I expect him back Sunday."

"So not a… distant friend?"

"No."

"Emma, let me look at you. It is like looking at the portrait of my mother in our gallery."

"Is it shocking, Mrs. Swan… er… Samson."

"You can call me Mrs. Swan if you like. It is… comforting. I like it. I wish I had known the truth back then."

"I am sorry, we were not…"

"Please stop, if you are planning an apology Mrs.… er… Miss… what should I call you?"

"I go by Mrs. Bennet now, although the subterfuge will be obvious… but… perhaps, you can call me Elizabeth as William does."

"If you will call me Georgiana."

"I will."

"So… I remember Emma's birthday… are you fifteen now Emma? Do I have leave to call you Emma?"

"Of course."

"Would you indulge me by calling me Aunt Georgiana?"

"I will in private, Aunt. Mama and I expect… repercussions when my paternity becomes public and we are putting it off as long as possible."

"Sensible enough. If I remember right, you are fifteen, so you must have been born in thirteen… your birthday is in August, and… wait… August, July, June, May, April, March, February, January, Decemb… **Netherfield**!"

"Are you always so fast, Mrs.… er… Georgiana?"

"Not always, but…"

"… but?"

"Well, it all just hit me in a flash. So many things… little inconsistencies. _Is this why Fitzwilliam disappeared from the face of the earth these last four or five months?"_

"It is. We have had a… difficult… reacquaintance."

"I imagine so. Was it… terrible?"

"It was."

"But it is better now?"

"It is."

"This is wonderful. Emma… Elizabeth… It is so wonderful to have it out in the open… I must welcome you to…"

"Lizzy! - - - _LIZZY! - - -_ **_LIZZY! - - - - _ IS THAT YOU?**"

" _Lizzy? After all this time… Lizzy?... Lizzy?... **Lizzy**?... Are you a ghost? Is that really you?"_

 _…_

"I am sorry, Mrs. Bennet. These ladies said they were friends of the first one, so I just sent them back… You look pale, Mrs. Bennet. Are you all right."

"It is all right Julia. You did nothing wrong. Just one too many shocks for the day, but I am fine now."

"Do you know these ladies."

"Yes, Julia… I do. You may go."

"Shall I take Rose?"

"No, she is still asleep. Leave her be."

"Very well. Good day, ladies."

"Sit down Jane… Mary. I am sorry… I am…"

"Georgiana?"

"Please sit Jane. Your sister has had a few too many shocks today. Mary does not look much better, but you do not seem so surprised."

"I have known for months, Georgiana. Fitzwilliam told us when he first learned. It was a shock to see his mother walking down the lane in Kympton."

"Sit down, Jane… Mary. I had planned to come visit you but… well… I have been waiting for my courage to rise to the occasion, but it never made it."

"Lizzy… is that really you?"

"Hello Mary. I apologize for the subdued greeting, but it has been a… difficult hour."

"Do not apologize to me, Lizzy… do you still go by Lizzy?"

"Not really. Nobody has called me that since I left Longbourn."

"What should I call you?"

"You are still my sister… it would please me if you continue, even though I have not been a good sister all these years."

"If you are looking for censure, you will have to apply to Lydia. I am just happy to see you and…"

"Oh, where are my manners? I am worse than my mother. Jane, you are already introduced, but Mary… I am afraid I do not know your name Mary. You are Lady something or other William told me."

"I am just Mary Nelson to you. I would hope you never call me Lady anything."

"All right… in this context it will not matter. Mrs. Mary Nelson, allow me to introduce you to _your niece_ … Miss Emma Bennet. Emma, your Aunt Mary."

"A pleasure to meet you, Aunt."

"The pleasure is all mine. May I call you Emma?"

"Of course. It is good to see you again, Aunt Jane."

"Emma, it is wonderful to see you again. I have been anxiously waiting, and just hoping that you are well."

"Mama is working her way up to an apology, but I shall forestall it. Now is the time for us to meet, and before it was not. Blame Fate if you like."

"Bold as ever, Emma?"

"Yes, I am still a terror."

"I am glad."

" **So am I!** "

"William, you are back!"

"Yes, apparently I cannot leave for a moment without Elizabeth being invaded by savage hordes."

"Is that Fitzwilliam Darcy teasing?"

"Guilty as charged, Mary."

"Brother, you have some explaining to do."

" **No, he does not!** "

…

"Mama?"

"I am sorry for my outburst, but I wish to make one thing clear. I am happy we are all reacquainted, and I am happy that we might have a chance to heal old wounds, but you may neither censure William for his lack of forthrightness, nor try to pry more details from him. Our story is ours to tell, and William has allowed us to control our own destiny, exactly as a gentleman should."

"Of course… forgive me."

"I am not angry Georgiana. I just find I… well… I am perhaps a little bit overly controlling… or to be honest, a lot overly controlling. I am well aware it is a character defect, but I need to do things slowly, and I have to think of Emma and I first. William is second, and everyone else a distant third. You all need to understand that. Emma's story and mine will be a minor bump on the road of your already comfortable lives. For us it is the entire road."

"Of course, Lizzy. I only ask one thing. Tell us how we can help you… and promise me you will tell us your story someday."

"We will, Aunt Mary. Just give us some time"

"Thank you, Emma. I would like to know you, and you have quite a number of cousins that would like to know you when you allow it."

"Welcome back, William. Since you woke Rose up, make yourself useful and rock her back to sleep."

"Of course! Come along, Little Rose. You know the outcome of this battle, so you may as well admit defeat gracefully."

"William, how is it you are so comfortable with a… what is it, two-year-old child?"

"Not yet. She will be in just over a fortnight on the sixteenth."

"You know her birthday?"

"Of course, we discuss many things during our contests of wills."

"You have a contest of wills with a toddler?"

"Yes, and I even win occasionally."

"William, I think you may have your sister swooning with your banter?"

"That would not be ideal. I was hoping for Rose asleep, and the ladies awake. The converse would be less conducive to good conversation. Rose is clever, but her vocabulary is limited."

"Lizzy, how is it that your _William_ is so familiar with the members of your household?"

"He is not _my William_ , Jane. He is my friend. He is familiar with our household because he dines here twice a week, and walks with us on Sundays. I am afraid he is the best of all of us at getting Rose to sleep when she is not enamored with the idea."

"I act as a bit of a surrogate uncle… for the moment, anyway."

"You have not been playing matchmaker again, have you William?"

"I am afraid so."

"You are making it difficult to keep my business up if you keep stealing away my ladies."

"Not my fault I know so many men in want of a wife."

"Insufferable man"

"Guilty as charged, ma'am… Oh, and _your servant._ "

"You see what I have to put up with."

"Emma, are they always like this?"

"Like what, Aunt Mary?"


	27. Curiosity

"Papa, might you satisfy my curiosity on a particular point?"

"Pppppppffffffffffffssssssssssssstttttttttttttttt!####"

"My apologies, Papa. I should have waited for you to finish your wine. Where are my manners? Here, let me help you clean your trousers. Oh dear, that is going to stain."

… …

"You called me _Papa_!"

"Well, you are my father!"

"Yes, I am… well, that was the first time."

"You are not planning to snort wine through your nose all over your trousers every time I call you 'Papa', I hope?"

"No, the once was sufficient, I assure you."

"Good… Mr. Fletcher will be vexed with us if we send you home like that often… well, he would if he was not paying so much attention to Abagail. Does he even notice your clothes?"

"He may not be as attentive as he once was, but we shall survive it."

"Emma, you are a terror."

"Of course, Mama."

"I am very happy with the new appellation, Emma. This may be one of the favorite moments of my life."

"You really should get out more, Papa, if wine on your trousers counts that highly."

"Better than what Rose does to my trousers."

"Perhaps _you_ are the terror, Papa."

"Perhaps, you are the woolgatherer. You had a question?"

"Oh yes, I nearly forgot the topic."

"Ask, my daughter."

"Well, here is my question, and keep in mind it is purely to satisfy my curiosity. You have been dining and walking with us for nearly six months. Mama has finally reacquainted herself with all of her sisters and my grandmother. You seem to be a mostly reasonably sane man, at least several times per week, so I am just curious about _when exactly you plan on coming to the point_."

"Emma… I… I… well…"

"And you, Mama. I have a question for you, while we are on the topic. When exactly do you plan on giving my father some clue that you might give him a positive answer… if in fact, he ever manages to work up his nerve to ask?"

"Emma… people do not just marry because you decree it to be so."

"And why-ever not?"

"It is just… well…"

" **Papa!** Do you love Mama? It is a simple question."

"I do. I love the both of you with all my heart."

" **Mama!** Do you love Papa?"

"Do not claim it is such a simple question for me, Emma."

"I do not Mama. I know it is far from that, but please, just this once, let me be the strong one. Let me be the one to guide you. Let me help you."

"How?"

"You hold so much inside, Mama. You always have. I understand _why_. I really do… but sometimes you hold everything inside yourself until it explodes. You cannot say or hear or do anything without remembering the past. Please Mama… talk to us. Please! Papa is a good man… please, talk to him. You can dance around it all you want, but you are as anxious as I am whenever he goes away for a week."

"Emma… William…"

 _"Please, Mama!"_

"It is not so simple, Emma. You do not know… you cannot… I truly hope you never know… I…"

"Start at the beginning, Mama. I am not a child. Papa will not hurt you. Tell us what you have kept hidden, before it eats you up."

… …

"Take my hand, Mama. Tell me!"

… …

"Emma… William – I have always had such a contrariety of emotions with you. I may have experienced nearly all of them at one time or another."

"What first, Mama? Tell us a story."

"First – well, first… Um… I can remember the first moment I saw your father, Emma. Maybe I should start there?"

"What did you feel, Mama?"

"I felt… I felt… I felt… this is embarrassing… I felt… weak-kneed. If this were a novel, I might have swooned. He was the handsomest man I had ever seen. Did you know that William? For a short moment I was as besotted as Mr. Bingley. I was not stupid, of course. I knew a ten‑thousand‑pound man would never court a country nobody, but I did hope you would dance with me. I would not say it, even to Jane, but… well, there it is. I hoped you might ask me to dance."

"Elizabeth, I had no idea."

"I should hope not."

"Then I insulted you."

"Yes, that brought my second great emotion… a lot of them, actually. We had a great stew of shame, embarrassment, anger, wounded vanity. I could have cared less if any other man said it, but from you… well… from you, it was humiliating."

"Elizabeth, I am so sorry. That moment was the day my life pivoted to the wrong path. You never like to hear apologies, but I wish you could really feel my contrition. I wish I could undo the hurt."

"Life is complicated, William. That is why I am so confused. That was, temporarily, the worst humiliation of my life, and I would wish some sense of justice, some sense of vengeance, some sense of… I do not know. For a long time, I wanted you to suffer for it. I wanted you to suffer badly."

"And now?"

"Now I have my Emma… everything bad that happened has given me my greatest treasure. As I say, nothing is simple. How can I regret the things that brought me my greatest gift?"

"Both can be true, Mama. I have had to live with ambiguity all my life, so it is natural for me. I was always a wrong, but always a right. Life is contradiction, and mine has been right from the first moment."

"Yes, Emma. You have always been clever."

"Not really, Mama. I just had time to get to know these things. I imagine others come to their own resolutions. Some of my contemporaries ignore the contradictions, if they think about it at all. Some live all their lives in shame or anger. I embrace the contradiction. It is the only way I can be happy."

"I am proud of you."

"I do my best."

"I should finish, or I will never get it out."

"Yes, Elizabeth. But will you accept my deepest apologies."

"I did long ago, William. I was unfair and uncharitable in doing so. I demanded we just sweep it under the rug because I would not allow you to say the words that could heal you. In some ways, I was still punishing you while pretending forgiveness. I am sorry for that."

"I can embrace the contradiction, Elizabeth. So long as you are content, so shall I be. Would you tell me the rest?"

"It gets worse?"

"We cannot get to the dawn without the night, Elizabeth. Would it be easier if you took my hand, or conversely if I move so you do not have to look at me? Tell me what to do."

"I… well… I know what you want William, and I know what Emma wants but… I…"

"Take your time, Mama."

"William, no matter what answer I give you, or more technically give Emma, you must understand you are my best friend in the world, and will always be."

"I am content, Elizabeth. If that is all I ever am, I will accept it… but you know I hope for more?"

"I know."

"Tell me what to do, Elizabeth."

"Take my hand. I need to finish."

"Of course."

"I already told you on _that night_ , I felt terror and a little bit of my body's natural yearnings."

"Yes. I can understand both."

"After that, and after you abandoned me, and my life went to complete rack and ruin, well… **_I HATED YOU_** _! Oh, how I hated you! _I _hated_ my father with the heat of a thousand suns. I _hated_ my mother. I _hated_ Jane. I hated the horse Jane rode to Netherfield on. I hated the whole world, but it was as _nothing_ to how much I _hated_ you. I cannot even begin to describe it, and I hope you never experience it in your life."

"Mama… we all understand. It is natural."

"Elizabeth."

"No, William. I must tell the story. Just keep hold of my hand, please."

"Of course."

"My hatred was given full flower right up until Emma was born. I still hated you after that, but I did not have the capacity to love and hate with full intensity at the same time, so I let the hate recede into the back of my mind. I… I… I believe I saved it up for a rainy day. My walks to Pemberley were as much to let me vent my hatred as to seriously consider talking to you again. I made it sound much more rational when I told you the story, and I am sorry for that."

"That seems… I do not know how that seems, Mama. You never gave me any indication."

"Of course not! That would be a terrible thing to do to a child."

"So then when I came into the shop?"

"I had saved up years of hatred, and I let you have it all at once. I had to leave because I believe Tom would kill you if I told him you abused me, and I was not at all certain I could resist the temptation. _I had to leave_."

… …

"I understand, Elizabeth. I did not at the time, but I do now."

"Yes, William. I know you do. We would not be having this conversation if I did not know that. Emma is right. You are a good man who made some mistakes. I can trust you with my hatred, but it is very difficult."

"I accept it as just and natural, Elizabeth."

"Do not do that, William!"

"Do what?"

"Try to take every bit of the blame on yourself. You have always done that, and… well… if you ever plan to answer Emma's question, _you need to stop_. You cannot patronize me. It is demeaning and disrespectful. You have contrary thoughts, and you are so afraid of me you cannot say them."

"What thoughts would you have me give you, Elizabeth."

" **Tell me something true, William!** "

"Such as?"

"I will not shackle myself to a man crippled his entire life by guilt… feeling it is his manly man duty to absorb all responsibility, all fault, all blame, all reasonableness. **Tell me something true, William!** "

" **Very well! I will! You had fifteen years to learn I was a better man than I was that night, and you never made the slightest effort to do so. You made my sister's come‑out dress and wedding dress, and never took the trouble to see if your daughter's father might be worthy of knowing her! You left me mourning a woman who was not actually dead! You left me to find a true likeness of my mother wandering down the street twenty miles from my estate after fifteen years! It is not fair, Elizabeth! It is not right! Do not blame me because I reacted badly! You set me up for it!**"

… …

"Papa? Mama? Breathe… breathe… please… you both look like you will faint… breathe."

"Thank you, William."

"Elizabeth, I am so…"

" **Do not say it!**"

… …

"Say what?"

"Say anything. You have spoken truly… perhaps the first unvarnished truthful statement of our entire association. Do not sully it with apologies, or remorse, or even the reality of what you owe us. _Let the truth stand_ , William. Let us not pretend. Let us _embrace the contradictions_ , because if we are to make anything of ourselves, our lives will be full of them."

"Elizabeth, I…"

"Let it stand, William. I have told you I hated the very sight of you for well over a decade. Gentleman or not, if you do not let it stand, it will eventually consume you; and then it will start on Emma and I. Let it stand… please!"

… …

… …

"All right."

"We have gone this far, William. My feelings are still almost as confused as they have always been. May I tell you more."

"Yes, I would be pleased."

"Perhaps not pleased, but you will listen. I want truth William, not politeness."

"All right. The truth is that I am deathly afraid of nearly every word that comes out of your mouth, but I will hear them."

"That is better… remember I am as afraid of the words coming out of my own mouth as you are… perhaps more so. But William…"

"Yes"

"When we are done here, I want you to admit you have your own difficulties to overcome. In some ways you had it easier, and in some ways harder. You got to love a perfect ghost for fifteen years. My ghost was never vexed at you, never ill‑tempered during her courses, never tired and sore from a day spent with needle and hot irons, never worried about money or responsibility or respectability, never… never… never real. Since then, we have had perhaps a couple of hundred hours together, when we were both on our _best_ behavior. Please admit you know that. Please acknowledge that you have only ever seen the best of me, and I have only seen both the worst and the best of you but noting in between. If we spend enough time together, you will see the worst of me, sooner or later."

"I will acknowledge it, but I will take the reality of you over my ghosts any day. Yes, it was easy to love your ghost… she never demanded I do any more than be a good man… a man worthy of her. I… now know that part is easy. To have purpose and pursue it is easy. To accept our imperfections and mistakes; and live with them is another thing entirely."

"Good… that is… good… I think."

"Elizabeth, are there more emotions we have not talked about."

"Yes… well, the next… well, I presume we have canvassed terror and anger sufficiently? And perhaps we could put quit to annoyance at your officiousness as well?"

"By your command."

"Impertinent whelp!"

"Hah! Quit woolgathering."

"Thank you for… well… for lightening our discussion."

"My pleasure."

"Well, my next noticeable foray into new emotion was surprising."

"What was it, Mama?"

"It was that first day we walked in the park, after the debacle with the gold. Can you guess?"

"I cannot."

"Truly?"

"I have no idea, Elizabeth. I was on pins and needles all day. I told you stories of my life, but you would not tell me anything of yours."

"It was _jealousy!"_

" **Jealousy?** "

"Yes… Jealousy."

"How so?"

"You see, it took me a long time to recognize it, and even longer to admit it, but I was _jealous_ of all those girls you danced with… all the matrons and debutantes and wallflowers and blacksmith's daughters. They all got to just enjoy a dance with you. They were never insulted, or made to feel they were more or less than they were, or terrified or hateful or confused. They may have entertained hopes, and their mothers certainly did; but I just imagined what it was like to just be able to have one dance with Fitzwilliam Darcy, and I was jealous."

"I… well… I…"

"I know that was not your intent, William. I have no idea if telling that story was a good thing or bad… but it made me think."

"Think what?"

"That maybe… perhaps, if I could be jealous… I might one day be… something else."

"Is that what made you allow me to get closer?"

"Yes, I think so. Remember though that I am still thoroughly confused about my feelings six months later. I will not pretend to understand everything I did then."

"So since then?"

"Since then… well, since then I have tried to be your friend."

"You have not tried… you have succeeded."

"Yes, but it is… well… to tell the truth, it terrifies me. It cannot go on forever without change, but… well…"

"Mama?"

"Have you any idea how terrifying it is for two people to bind their lives together? Especially for a woman?"

"I do… but Elizabeth, I am terrified too. There are a lot of ways this can go badly."

"I know."

"But just so you know, and just so Emma will be satisfied, I will ask. Elizabeth Bennet, would you do me the great honor of becoming my wife? I will promise that all of life's pleasures and trials will be shared. I will in no way try to stuff you into the role of a typical estate mistress, or snuff out the great accomplishments you have made. _If you accept me, I promise we shall decide our shared purpose together, and live it every day._ You need not answer today, but it is time for me to speak my heart without ambiguity. We will embrace the contradictions of our life should you decide to share it, but make no mistake. I love both you and our daughter will all my heart, and would hope to share it with you."

… …

"Thank you, William. That was beautiful."

"Mama?"

"William… Emma… You know… well… I hope I do not seem too timid, but I am afraid."

"I know, and you need not answer now or even anytime soon, Elizabeth. I will be here when you are ready."

"No, I cannot continue. It is too hard. I will give you an answer in the morning. One way or the other, I would hope you will continue to be my friend."

"Of course! If that is how our lives will play out, so be it. I will be content."

"Emma… I thank you for forcing the issue. I hope it was not too‑too difficult?"

"It was the hardest thing I have ever done, Mama."

"Well, I am proud of you. It seems you have forced two very stubborn people to… well, to something."

"Thank you, Mama."

"Now it is time for you to go to bed."

"All right. Good night, Mama. Good night, Papa."

"Sleep well, Emma."


	28. Dreams

"It is time for us to retire as well, William."

"Very well. Good night, Elizabeth. And may I say… I will accept any answer you give me, but I hope for a positive one. May I see you for breakfast?"

"Of course, but where are you going?"

"I am going to bed, as you instructed."

"My instructions must have been incomplete."

"You will clarify?"

"Yes… well… It is time for you to go to bed, but your bed is upstairs. The first door on the right."

"That is your bedroom."

"I know."

"You are saying…"

"I… well, I am making a mess of it."

"Take your time, Elizabeth."

"I am saying that in terms of character, personality, education and amiability you are the perfect match for me. You are truly the best man I know and… well… how can I say this?"

"Take your time."

"I… I love you, but I am terrified of you at the same time."

"You love me?"

"Yes, silly. Of course, I love you. _I cannot fix on the hour, or the spot, or the look, or the words, which laid the foundation. It is too long ago. I was in the middle before I knew that I_ _had_ _begun._ Flipping from hate to love is… confusing. It was some time before I could admit it to myself. _"_

"How long?"

"Until about an hour ago. But you see… I need… I well… I want… I hope you will not lose your respect for me, but I have a total of one experience in… the… the… relations between a man and a woman. I want to... well… I am terrified… and… I… well… I do not want to be afraid."

"Do you truly fear me, Elizabeth?"

"Oh no no no nononono! Please, that came out wrong. I mean… well… I _know_ you will never hurt me again, William. I know that in your right mind you never would have the first time. I do not fear you. Please understand, I no longer fear you in any rational way. I am just afraid that I will never be able to… to… to… _know you_ … without fear. I am terrified of myself, not of you. Terrified that I am broken beyond repair."

"So, you wish to…"

"I… well… It is terribly unfair, but I want us… I need us… to… to… to see if we can teach each other… to _not_ be afraid."

"There is nothing in the least unfair in that proposal, Elizabeth. I shall take the task gladly."

"I… well, I do not want to say we have to be _fully_ comfortable William. We may not be for quite some time… but I at least want to go to my wedding bed without fear if I go at all, and I doubt I will ever have another chance."

"That is what I love about you, Elizabeth. You have courage, but do not pretend to hubris you do not possess."

"Do not fool yourself, William. I pretend to many things. Probably half or two thirds of the words I have ever said to you are either outright lies or shading of the truth… but I cannot truly love a man I do not trust."

"Do you trust me, Elizabeth?"

"Most of me does. My mind does. My heart certainly does. My fears… well, they are not so certain."

"Let us face them together… and Elizabeth!"

"Yes"

"I am terrified too."

"Then let us be terrified together."

"Let us, my love."

* * *

"You will have to act as lady's maid, Fitzwilliam. You will have to unbutton me. Emma usually does it."

"Might I admit Elizabeth, I have dreamed of this many‑many‑many times, but my hands did not shake in my dreams."

"Mine are not so steady either. Would a glass of wine help, or just sitting down for a bit?"

"You mean procrastination?"

"When you put it that way, it sounds silly."

"Let us just get through it. What does it feel like when I do this?"

"It feels… well, it feels… wonderful, Fitzwilliam, I… well, I have had a few of my own dreams all these years."

"Let us make some new dreams, Elizabeth!"

"I would like that. Do you think you can manage the buttons?"

"Yes, my hands have stopped shaking… mostly."

"Good… I would not want to ruin this dress. It is a favorite… and…"

"Yes"

"… and I wore it for you. I noticed you like it."

"I do… Thank you, Elizabeth. Did you make it?"

"Most of it."

"As you say, I like it very much."

* * *

"Fitzwilliam, I will have to depend on you for guidance. My one lone experience was…"

"There is only one problem with that approach, Elizabeth."

"Which is?"

"My experience is, and always will be, exactly and precisely, down to the second, the same as yours."

"You have never?!"

"No, never."

"That is… surprising."

"It is what it is, Elizabeth. I am not unhappy. I have read a bit… well, more than a bit."

"I… well, I have as well, and some of my flock is… more experienced, and occasionally… verbose, so I am not completely ignorant."

"What do you conclude."

"I believe… well, I believe if we go _slowly_ , and curb our embarrassment enough to say what we feel, we may muddle through it."

"That seems sensible."

"There… that is the last button. Now, it is my turn. How to I remove this cravat without running naked through the house to get my scissors, or strangling you."

"I have no idea. Should I go get Fletcher?"

"Ha-ha. I believe I have heard that humor helps."

" _Your Jester_ , madam."

"Oh, you!"

* * *

"There, not so complicated after all. Really, I have no idea why you even need a valet. My stays are more difficult than your entire wardrobe."

"We have time, Elizabeth. Let us just get under the counterpane, because I am freezing. Then we can… we can talk a bit more, and perhaps figure out what to do next.

"I would like that."

* * *

"Elizabeth, I have two questions."

"I am at your disposal, sir… Oooohh! Do that again!"

… …

"Perhaps, my questions can wait."

"It can… well… Oh! I like that."

"Your claim to ignorance is similarly…"

"Oh, my!"

"Fitzwilliam, remember my suggestion we go slowly?"

"Yes, my love."

"Belay it. I need you _now_! Whatever you are doing, do more of it!"

* * *

"Are you well, my love?"

"Yes, I am… you?"

"More than well. I am… perfect"

"As am I. Why have we waited so long?"

"All things in their own time, my love… all in their own time."

"My love?"

"I shall never tire of hearing that."

"Yes… Do you know that exactly half of my experiences in… well, this situation were terrifying and half were exhilarating?"

"Yes"

"I would prefer one-third and two-thirds."

"By your command, my love."

* * *

"My love?"

"You have to give me a few minutes if you want to get to one-fourth, Elizabeth."

"Oh, I am not ready for that."

"Good."

"Not right now. Ask me in a half‑hour and it will be different. I just want to… talk."

"I would love that… Is this all there is to it? We share pleasure, and talk and all the hurt is in the past?"

"I hardly think so. It may take months or years, and had we tried this months ago, I do not think I could have gotten past my terrors, and yet…"

"… and yet?"

"Perhaps, I was just too timid."

"I think not. We both had to do this in our time, but… make no mistake, I do love you with all my heart, and I did so _before_ this."

"I… well, I did as well. I just could not fully realize it."

* * *

"Elizabeth?"

"Yes, Fitzwilliam?"

"I am curious. Since we entered your room, you have called me 'Fitzwilliam', where you always called me 'William' before. Why?"

"I… well, this may be embarrassing."

"We are well past embarrassment with each other, I would hope."

"Probably not, but I hope we will be eventually."

"About the name?"

"Well, all these years, I have _hated_ and _feared_ _Fitzwilliam Darcy_. I chose to call you _William_ because it was your sister's name and seemed… less frightening."

"And now?"

"I… believe it was instinctive… I needed to let go of the hatred, and I think I understood that I could only replace it by _loving Fitzwilliam Darcy._ I did not understand it, but it came naturally."

"It makes sense."

"Hardly, but it worked. I do love you. I know that now, but I did not know it before."

* * *

"Elizabeth, are you awake?"

"I am now."

"Can I ask… when we came up, were you not afraid you would fall with child? I should have asked but…"

"… but your head was filled with lust?"

"Do not put words…"

"Got you!"

"Teaser!"

"Yes… but I will answer your question. No, I was not worried."

"Why?"

"Two reasons… first, I am 36 years old so my chances of another child are not that robust anyway. It can happen, but the chances go down with age. By the time I am as ancient as you are, it will be nearly impossible. If you are looking for lots of sons in your nursery, you are taking the wrong tactic."

"I already have an…"

"Yes, yes… I know. You could not help yourself. I imagine Emma is already the heir… is that what you are afraid to say?"

"Actually, that would be terribly officious, and I have learned my lesson."

"And?"

"You are!"

"I should punish you for that?"

"Punish away my… Oooohhhh! Whatever that is, please do more of it."

* * *

"Elizabeth, you said there are two reason you were not worried about increasing."

"Do you spend all night interrogating all your paramours?"

"So far."

"Teasing man… well, my courses just ended two days ago. We are in no danger for around a week or ten days."

"But if I _did_ want to be in danger?"

"Well, are you ready to discuss it now?"

"I am ready to discuss anything."

"Then… well, may I make you a bargain, Fitzwilliam Darcy?"

"Name your terms, my lady."

"I… if I marry you, I will not give up my purpose. Will you agree to that?"

"Only if you agree to let me help you, and you agree that no matter what the law says, we are equals… _in all matters_. I am no more enamored with drawing rooms than you are Elizabeth, and you are very intelligent, as is Emma. It would be beyond stupid for me to try to make all the decisions with half or one third of our combined intelligence. Let us go forth and change the world together."

"Truly!"

"Truly! I need purpose in life as much as you do, Elizabeth. We can do this together."

"Thank you. I only have one more condition."

"Name it."

"Now that I have given you my heart, I never want to part, even for a night. So, I would ask, that absent a very compelling reason, from now on you have your choice of two beds. The one I happen to be in, or your coffin. I never wish to be parted."

"I will agree to that, my loveliest Elizabeth… though the coffin is not out of the question either."

"Silly man… I do love you. Against all the odds, I love you with all my heart."

"And you have both my heart and my mind as well, my love. Shall we have breakfast, or are you enamored with the idea of one-fifth?"


	29. Gratitude

"Good morning, Papa. May I presume since it is barely seven o'clock and you are practically glowing that either Mama gave you the answer we both wanted, or Abagail threw Mr. Fletcher out, and he is so cross about both that and your trousers he woke you up at dawn and threw you out."

"I will miss you when you go, Emma."

"Go… Where? When?"

"Seminary… next week if you do not quit teasing me."

" **Oh, you!** Where is Mama?"

"She will be down in a few minutes. She had some things to attend to."

* * *

"Good morning, my loves."

"Mama, may I wish you joy?"

"Not really. I am shackling myself to your father."

" **Oh, you!** "

"When will you wed?"

"We have not discussed it."

"Now is as good a time as any."

"You are a terror, Emma."

"So?"

"Give me your opinion… keeping in mind that I have no plans to let your father leave my side for some time. Should we buy a common license and get married tomorrow, or use the wedding to effect a reconciliation with my sisters?"

… …

"Papa, do you always look like that when you are thinking hard?"

"I do."

… …

"Papa, do you always turn red when Mama kisses you?"

"So far."

… …

"Have I created a monster?"

"Probably. Shall I share my thoughts?"

"Yes."

"You know we will be the source of gossip either way. I would like to fully acknowledge Emma, but in the best way."

"When I change my name to Darcy, it should be obvious enough."

"You wish to?"

"Of course! It is for the best. I am a Darcy. Hardly anybody knows my real name anyway. I've been Emma Bee forever. I was never ashamed of my birthname per-se, but I think I recognized Mama's discomfort early in life. I am just as happy to take your name. We are to be a family… even if I am shipped off to seminary."

"Have you been teasing our daughter, William?"

"Guilty as charged, madam."

"I have an idea… a way to deal with the gossip… but it might be difficult… although no more so than just moving into Darcy house."

"Darcy house frightens you?"

"Yes! I have enough trouble keeping my girlish figure with the scones Mrs. Thompson sends over every five minutes. Imagine if I have them available all the time."

"Can we be serious, Mama?"

"You started it, Emma."

"Did I?"

"I am all ears, Elizabeth. What is your idea about the gossip… keeping in mind that I could care less what the first circles think of us."

"I do not either, but we have purpose, William. We must do what is best for _everyone_ , and that may be keeping the gossip to a reasonable level."

"Let us have your suggestion."

"Do you know the best way to have someone not mind that you hit them with a stick?"

"An odd analogy, but carry on."

"You shoot them with a cannon. I suggest we write a book. Format it and sell it like a novel, but put our _entire_ story in it _and use our real names_."

… …

"Your hair is smoking again, Papa."

… …

"A bold move."

"Yes."

"Practically insane."

"Yes."

"Suicidal"

"Yes."

"Worst idea I have ever heard."

"So, you are in favor?"

"Obviously."

… …

"Mama… will this crazy scheme of yours hurt Mrs. Rush, or any of our ladies?"

"We owe them the respect of asking them. I have much more consideration for them than for my sisters… but we should ask them as well. In the end, I think the effect will be neutral, or even positive."

"So, wedding in a month. Should we go to Derbyshire and talk to Mrs. Rush in person, or write?"

"Do not be daft. Wedding tomorrow by common license. Book in a month."

"I shall go talk to the rector straightaway."

"Are you always this efficient, William."

"I am in a hurry to be addressed as Fitzwilliam again."

"What does that mean, Papa?"

"Never mind, Emma."

* * *

"Good morning, Papa. Good morning, Mama."

"Good morning, Emmabee. Are you ready to become a Darcy?"

"Can I carry on as a bee? I do not care to be a donkey."

"You would make a gorgeous Donkey, Emmadee."

"Yes, eee-awww. eee-awww."

"You get sillier every day, Papa."

"Are you ready for the shackles, Papa?"

"Of course. I cannot wait."

"What are you working on?"

"They are some preliminary calculations."

"What are they about, William?"

"Our gratitude project. You will have the lion's share of the work if you agree to the scheme."

"Do you plan one or two orders of magnitude, William?"

"Two. I cannot be outdone by a modiste."

"Perish the thought. So we need another 100 ladies. That should not be a challenge for a man like you?"

"Where do you get 100?"

"That is two orders of magnitude. It is basic arithmetic."

"Two orders of magnitude is right for a lady who started with nothing. It is not for a man with a large fortune and six hundred years of family tradition."

"Soooo… how will you calculate it, then?"

"Two orders of magnitude is 10,000. Really, Elizabeth… I am disappointed. You said you and Emma liked numbers. This is basic arithmetic. You saved 100 girls more or less, so I must extend my gratitude. I am not sure there are that many in England. I may have to expand into America."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy, I have only one thing to say."

"Yes."

"I love you with all my heart, but you are insane."

"I missed the first part of that. Please repeat it."

"Oh, you!"

"Got you!"

"I do love you with all my heart."

"You have every bit of my heart, my love."


	30. Epilogue

"Grandma Emma, is it true?"

"Yes, little one, it is. Do you know what ambiguity is?"

"I'm not stupid, Grandmama. I am eight years old, and I can read!"

"Of course, Little One. Forgive me my impertinence."

"So, how is this ambig… ambig… amb… what you said?"

"It is a happy day and a sad day all at the same time."

"What are you talking about, Sister?"

"Good afternoon, Robert. Thank you for coming. Mama and Papa both died last night… peacefully in their sleep."

"On the same night?"

"Yes, the same night."

"Astounding."

"Not to me. I always believed it would be thus."

"Just because you proposed for your own parents does not mean you know everything, Emmabee. Being my eldest sister does not always make you right."

"Do not be impertinent, Mr. Master of Pemberley."

"I still never understood why you did not want it."

"I had my own priorities, Robert. We need not discuss it again. You and your brother have both done well… as have we all."

"I presume they were in their bed in the dower house?"

"Yes, they are twined together like tree roots. It is really quite sweet… as if they knew it was to happen."

"Will it be difficult to separate them?"

"Why would we do that?"

"To bury them, of course."

"That famous night when I proposed to my own parents, Mama offered Papa a bargain. She said for the rest of their lives, he had the choice of the bed she happened to be in, or his coffin."

"They kept that bargain… they got a slow start, but 35 years of sleeping in the same bed is well done."

"Yes, but do you know what Papa said?"

"No, I never heard that."

"He said he agreed to the bargain, but the coffin was provisional."

"No!"

"Yes. Their spirits will be together forever, we may as well have their bodies be. They lived unconventional lives, and they materially changed the world. Let us respect that. Their bodies can lie together as well. Just make a bigger coffin."

"That is… that is…"

"Just say it, Robert."

"You are a terror, Sister. But it shall be as you say."

* * *

 _A/N: There you have it gang, story 16 done. I know I promised faithfully I would keep this a short story… but I lied… as usual._

 _This story generated quite a bit of controversy, and some very interesting discussions. I must say I loved all the reviews, the discussions and the whole process._

 _I had longer reviews than usual for this story. It is a sensitive topic, and some thought I did a good job of handling the seriousness of the subject with humor, while others thought it was way to flippant for the seriousness of the topic. Now that you're done, you can decide and I'd love to hear your thoughts._

 _The dialogue-only style is unusual. Not everybody was a fan, but I quite like it. It's probably more work to read it, but it gives you a lot of latitude to fill in the blanks the way you like. Of course, when I skip months or decades, you have to fill in more blanks than usual. I have no idea what it's like to read it, so maybe one of you authors will take up the yoke and give it a try._

 _There was and is some doubt as to whether an HEA can or should happen in this situation. I can say that like all human situations, there is no proper answer. Look in life and you'll see both sides. Some people forgive the unforgivable, and forge a good life out of the ashes. Contrarily, some people keep excusing the unforgivable, and make a bad life worse. This is fiction, and I am predisposed to HEAs, but I am aware that in the real world, life is more complicated and sometimes the answer isn't obvious. I tried to show a bit of the ambiguity in the story, but cannot judge if it works or not._

 _I have covered quite a few of the bad things that can happen in the world in my stories, and I doubt I'm all done. I don't do pure ponies and rainbows very well, so if you like that sort of thing, I hope to be back in a little while with more._

 _I hope you enjoyed this little story, and you can take the time to tell me what you think._

 _Wade_


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